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“The most desirable Juvenile Books issued in the Nation/’ 


HARPER’S STORY BOOKS. 


A Monthly Series of Narratives, Biographies, and Tales, for the Instruction and Entertain- 
ment of the Young. By Jacob Abbott. Embellished with numerous and beautiful En- 
gravings. 

Each Number of “ Harper’s Story Books” will contain 160 pages in small quarto form, very beautifully illustrated, 
and printed on superfine calendered paper. 

The Series may be obtained of Booksellers, Periodical Agents, and Postmasters, or from the Publishers, at Three 
Dollars a year, or Twenty-five Cents a Number, in Paper — or Forty Cents a Number in Cloth, Gilt The postage 
upon “ Harper’s Story Books,” which must be paid quarterly in advance, is Ttvo Cents. Subscriptions may com- 
mence with any Number. The two Periodicals, “ Harper’s New Monthly Magazine” and “Harper’s Story Books,” 
will be supplied to Subscribers at Five Dollars a year. \ 

The Publishers will supply Specimen Numbers gratuitously to Agents and Postmasters, and will make liberal ar- 
rangements with them for circulating the work They will also supply Clubs of Two persons at Five Dollars a year, 
or Five persons at Ten Dollars 1 Clergymen and Teachers supplied at Two Dollars a year. Numbers from the 
commencement can be supplied. Also the bound Volumes. 

Nine Volumes of “Harper’s Story Books,” each containing three Numbers, are now ready. The Volumes are 
published quarterly, simultaneously with the appearance of the Numbers for February, May, August, and November, 
handsomely bound in Muslin, Gilt, $1 00 each. 


Twenty-eight Numbers are now ready, viz : 

CARL AND JOCKO; or, the Adventures of the Little 
Italian Boy and his Monkey. 

VERNON; or, Conversations about Old Times in En- 
gland 

AUNT MARGARET; or, How John True kept his 
Resolutions. 

THE GREAT ELM ; or, Robin Green and Josiah Lane 
at School. 

DIALOGUES, for the Amusement and Instruction of 
Young Persons. 

THE ALCOVE ; containing some further Account of 
Timboo, Mark, and Fanny. 

THE GIBRALTAR GALLERY ; being an Account, 
of various Things both Curious and Useful 

THE THREE GOLD DOLLARS; or, an Account of 
the Adventures of Robin Green. 

RAMBLES AMONG THE ALPS. 

THE ENGINEER; or, How to Travel in the Woods. 

THE MUSEUM; or, Curiosities Explained. 

ELFRED; or, the Blind Boy and his Pictures. 

JOHN TRUE ; or, the Christian Experience of an Hon- 
est Boy. 

THE STORY OF AMERICAN HISTORY, from the 
earliest Settlement of the Country to the Establishment 
of the Federal Constitution. 


THE STCRY OF ENGLISH HISTORY, from the 
earliest Periods to the American Revolution. 

THE STORY OF ANCIENT HISTORY, from the 
earliest Periods to the Fall of the Roman Empire. 

THE STUDIO; or, Illustrations of the Theory and Prac- 
tice of Drawing, for Young Artists at Home. 

FRANKLIN, the Apprentice Boy. 

THE HARPER ESTABLISHMENT; or, How the 

Story Books are made. 

TIMBOO AND FANNY; or, the Art of Self-instruc- 
tion. 

TIMBOO AND JOLIBA; or, the Art of being Useful. 

VIRGINIA; or, a Little Light on a very Dark Saying. 

EMMA; or, the Three Misfortunes of a Belle. 

PRANK; or, the Philosophy of Tricks and Mischief. 

THE JATTLE LOUVRE ; or, the Boys’ and Girls’ Pic. 
ture Gallery. 

THE STRAIT GATE; or, the Rule of Exclusion from 
Heaven. 

WILLIE AND THE MORTGAGE: showing how 
much may be accomplished by a Boy. 

BRUNO; or, Lessons of Fidelity, Patience, and Self-de- 
nial, taught by a Dog. 

































































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A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES, 
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT 
OF THE YOUNG. 


BY 


M©@IB 




fnitolliafuii initjj 

NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 


c WSt- 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-four, by 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 



I ^ S'], 


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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-seven, by 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 





I 

PREFACE. 


This book contains the history of a little Italian boy, who left 
Europe with his father and mother to come as emigrants to Amer- 
ica. He met with a great many sad and sorrowful adventures on 
his way, and the reader of the story may learn from it the lessons 
of calmness and composure in danger, of patience and fortitude in 
suffering, and trust in God in times of dark despondency. It is 
true that Carl had Jocko to help him and to amuse him, but his 
chief reliance, after all, was upon the overruling hand of Divine 
Providence, and upon his own calm consideration and forethought, 
and the firm and steady perseverance with which he pursued the 
end which he had in view. 

By following his example in these respects when you enter 
yourselves, hereafter, upon the serious struggles of life, you will 
almost certainly succeed in the end, and you will, at any rate, be 
cheered, and sustained, and comforted through all the disappoint- 
ments, trials, and sufferings that you will encounter on the way. 










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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER / PAGH 

I. SOME ACCOUNT OF CARL 13 

II. A VISIT 28 

III. TROUBLE AT SEA 38 

IV. THE END OF THE VOYAGE 52 

V. AMERICA 75 

VI. THE FLAGEOLET 91 

VII. THE TRAIN 106 

VIII. A GOOD LODGING 121 

IX. VERMONT 137 

X. CONCLUSION 149 











































. 



























\ 












. 


I- 

































































ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGB 

jocko climbing Frontispiece. 

CARL * 13 

JOCKO DRAWING WATER 23 

THE SEA 28 

CARL IN THE STATE-ROOM 31 

THE LIGHT-HOUSE 38 

rosa : 52 

GETTING ASHORE 70 

THE TUB .* 75 

THE FLAGEOLET 91 

TOLL-HOUSE 106 

MARY 121 

TRYING TO TEACH JOCKO 127 

JOCKO DRINKING 137 

EVENING 149 



















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. 


























CARL AND JOCKO. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SHIP. 


The appearance of Carl. His early home. 


Seeking a fortune. 


FIARL was an Italian boy, and Jocko was his monkey. Carl 
^ was a very pretty boy. He had large, dark eyes, and black, 
glossy hair. His face was rather pale, 
but this was partly in consequence of the 
hard life he had led. 

Carl was born at the foot of the Alps, 
on the sunny side of them — that is, on the 
side toward Italy. Grapes grow there, 
and figs, and other delicious fruits in rich 
profusion, but the grapes and the figs be- 
long all to the men who own the lands on 
which they grow. Carl’s father had no 
land, and he found it very difficult to get 
enough for his wife and little Carl to eat ; so he determined to 
go with his wife and son over the Alps to France to seek his for- 
tune, as a great many other poor Italian men had done before him. 

There are a grc ik many children, too, that go in this way with 
their fathers into France and England from Saxony and Piedmont, 



CARL. 


14 


THE SHIP. 


Poor children earning money. The passengers upon the steamer. 

and various other countries about the foot of the Alps. When 
there, they try to earn their living in very curious ways. Some, 
particularly the smallest of them, become chimney-sweeps. Oth- 
ers go about the streets singing songs, or playing upon a tambour- 
ine, or exhibiting a monkey to amuse the children in the houses, 
hoping that the people whose children are amused will throw them 
out a penny or two from the window. Sometimes the people do, 
and sometimes they do not. 

Often the parents of these poor boys and girls die, and then the 
children are left to take care of themselves, and a very hard time 
do they have of it. A lady has just related to me a little incident 
which happened to her in Paris last summer, which illustrates 
this. Her relating it to me was entirely accidental, for she did 
not know that I was going to write the story of Carl and Jocko. 
She was lying on her sofa at the time in her state-room on board 
the steamer Persia, in which we are making the voyage to Europe 
together. Her state-room was very near to ours, and we often 
visited each other during the course of the voyage, as is customa- 
ry among the passengers on board the Atlantic steamers.* 

The incident which she related to me was this : She was walk- 
ing one day on one of the quais at Paris, f Her husband was 
with her. He, having occasion to make some small purchases, 
stepped into a shop, leaving the lady to walk slowly along upon 
the sidewalk until he should come out. She saw some object in 

* You can see a view of one of these steamers on page C l . 

t A quai is a street along the bank of a river. It has houses and shops on one 
side, and a low wall separating it from the water on the other. 


THE SHIP. 


15 


The Italian boy in Paris. 


The lady’s gift. What the boys bought. 


a shop-window which attracted her attention, and she stopped to 
look at it. While she was thus looking, she felt something gently 
pull her cloak. She looked round, and saw one of these little 
Italian boys standing near and holding out his hand as if to beg. 
At the same time, he looked anxiously up and down the street, to 
be sure that no policeman was near ; for begging is forbidden in 
the streets of Paris, and all persons found violating the law are 
taken up by the police, and sent to some poor-house or house of 
correction. The poor child looked so wan and woe-begone in his 
misery that the lady pitied him, and she put her hand in her pock- 
et and took out a sou and gave it to him. 

A sou is a French coin of about the size and value of a cent. 

The boy seemed overjoyed at his good fortune, and immediate- 
ly ran off with his sou round the corner. 

In a moment, however, he reappeared, bringing with him two 
other boys as poor and miserable as himself, and they held out 
their hands to the lady. She took out two more sous from her 
pocket, and gave each of them one. Then all three of the boys 
ran off again, with their faces full of joy and pleasure. 

The lady walked slowly on, but before she had taken many 
steps she saw the boys all coming back again, each with a small 
roll of bread in his hand, which they had bought with their sous. 
They held up these rolls to the lady to show her what they had 
done with the money, and thanked her again by their smiling looks 
for her kindness in giving it to them, and then went away. 

Carl was such a boy as one of these. 

When he went over the Alps into France, his father and moth- 


16 


THE SHIP. 


The musical company. Why Carl’s father wished to go to America. 

er went with him, and they wandered about together for several 
years. Carl’s father played upon the violin, and his wife sang to 
accompany him. This was to make music in the streets in order 
to please the children at the windows of the houses. Besides the 
music, they had Jocko. Jocko was a very funny monkey, and 
his dancings and caperings made the children laugh. Carl took 
care of Jocko. He held the end of the cord which was fastened 
around him to prevent him from running away. Then, after the 
song was ended and the children had seen Jocko as much as they 
wished, Carl would hold out his cap for the money which they 
were to give him, and he brought the money to his father. 

Sometimes there would be a ring formed round Carl’s father 
and mother and the monkey in the street, and then Carl would 
go around and collect the money in his cap. At other times peo- 
ple would throw the money out from the windows, and it would 
fall upon the pavement. Then Carl would run about and find it, 
and pick it up. 

All the money that Carl’s father gained in this way he saved — 
all but just enough to buy what was necessary for his family to 
eat day by day. He was saving this money in hopes to get 
enough to pay for the passage of them all to America. 

“ If we can only get to America,” he said to Carl, “ we can do 
very well. There is plenty of land there, and I will get some and 
become a farmer. Then we shall have a house to live in of our 
own, instead of roaming about in this way, houseless wanderers 
from town to town.” 

“I shall like that,” said Carl. 


THE SHIP. 


17 


Carl goes to London to learn the English language. 

“And then, besides,” said his father, “you can go to school 
there and learn ; and so, instead of being poor and miserable all 
your life, as you must be here, you will have as good a chance as 
any other American boy to grow rich and to become a gentleman.” 

“ I shall like that too,” said Carl. 

“ Only first,” said his father, “ you must learn the English lan- 
guage.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl, “I will learn it as fast as I can.” 

Carl’s father concluded to go to England, so as to give his boy 
an opportunity to begin to learn the English language before go- 
ing to America. He remained a year or more in London, and 
during that time he earned so much as to complete the sum ne- 
cessary to pay the passage of all his family to America. At length, 
when the time came, he took passage on board a packet-ship, and 
when the day of sailing arrived they went on board, Jocko and all. 

The ship that they went on board of lay in the docks in Lon- 
don. These docks are immense basins dug out of the ground 
and walled up round the sides. They are large enough to hold 
hundreds and hundreds of ships. The people made these docks 
because there was not room enough for the ships in the river. 
Of course, there are passage-ways from the docks to the river. 
These passage-ways are shut by great gates when the tide goes 
down, and this keeps the water in the docks high, so as to float 
the shipping within all the time. 

The ship in which Carl’s father took passage was pulled out of 
the docks, when the time came, by means of a strong hawser fasten- 
ed at one end to an immense iron ring built in the pier. The oth- 

28 B 


18 


THE SHIP. 


Setting sail for America. What Jocko thought about the rigging. The voyage. 

er end of the hawser was wound around the capstan, and the sail- 
ors, by turning the capstan, drew the ship along. When the ship 
got into the river the sails were hoisted, and she sailed away down 
the stream between double and triple rows of steamers, ships, 
barges, and vessels of all sorts, which lined the shores. As the 
ship moved slowly along, Carl gazed at the forests of masts with 
amazement. He wondered where such an immense multitude of 
vessels could have come from, and where they could be going. 
Jocko all this time sat perched upon the rigging near Carl. He, 
too, was looking at the shipping. He thought that the masts 
were trees growing along the banks. The yards and spars he 
supposed were branches, but what the ropes were he could not tell. 

The ship sailed down the river, and then came out to the open 
sea. She then turned to the southward, and passed through the 
Straits of Dover, and so down the English Channel, along the 
southern shore of England, until she reached Portsmouth. Here 
she stopped to take on board the lady and gentlemen passengers 
who had come down from London across the country to meet her. 
If you look at the map, you will see that to go down the Thames 
and round through the Straits of Dover to Portsmouth is a long 
way, while the distance is comparatively very short from London 
to Portsmouth across the country. It was customary, therefore, 
in those days, for the lady and gentlemen passengers to let the 
ship go round, while they went across the country with a view of 
meeting the ship at Portsmouth, while emigrants and other people 
who could not afford to pay the expense of the journey across the 
country would go all the way in the ship. 


THE SHIP. 


19 


Steerage passengers and cabin passengers. The emigrants’ berths. 

The lady and gentlemen passengers had berths in the cabin, 
which was in the after part of the ship. The berths of the emi- 
grants were farther forward, in a place called the steerage. So 
the emigrants were commonly called steerage passengers, while the 
ladies and gentlemen were called cabin passengers. The state- 
rooms of the cabin passengers were very elegantly furnished and 
fitted up. The steerage berths, on the other hand, were plain and 
coarse. The steerage, too, was full, for there were more than a 
hundred passengers crowded in it, men, women, and children. 

What are called berths in a ship at sea are, in fact, shelves built 
against the side of the ship to serve instead of bedsteads for peo- 
ple to sleep upon. There would not be room for bedsteads enough 
to hold so many people ; and besides, even if there were room, 
bedsteads would not be suitable for use at sea, inasmuch as in the 
rocking and rolling of the ship in a storm they would continually 
be sliding about the floor unless they were fastened down. So, 
for the double purpose of saving room and of keeping the bed- 
places secure, they build berths against the sides of the ship, and 
let the poor people sleep in them. 

Carl’s father and mother had two berths, one above the other. 
His father slept in the upper one, and his mother in the lower one. 
As for Carl, he had no berth, so he slept on the floor in front of 
his mother’s place. They spread down something for him to lie 
upon, and he had a bundle for a pillow. 

Jocko slept at his feet. To prevent his getting away in the 
night, Carl used to fasten the end of his chain into a staple that 
he found near. 


20 


THE SHIP. 


What Carl and Jocko did in the daytime. 


Jocko’s amusements. 


All around were a great many other berths, which at night were 
filled with people. The floor, too, was covered in all directions 
with women and children. Some of these lay thus upon the floor 
because they had no berths ; others, because they were afraid to 
sleep in berths, lest they should fall out in the night from the roll- 
ing of the ship in going over the seas. 

It was only the night that Carl and J ocko spent below. In the 
daytime they were almost always on deck, where Carl took great 
interest in observing the operations of the sailors in managing the 
ship, and Jocko amused himself by climbing about among the rig- 
ring. 

Jocko made a great deal of amusement for the sailors, and also 
for the passengers, during the voyage, by his tricks and funny ca- 
pers. He had a very comical way of taking hold of the end of 
his tail and shaking it at any body that displeased him, as if it 
were a stick, and he was going to strike his enemy with it. 
Whenever he had done any mischief, and a sailor ran after him to 
punish him for it, he would run up the rigging, the sailor, perhaps, 
running after him. Jocko, however, could climb higher and fast- 
er than the sailor ; and when he got up to a place where the sailor 
could not reach him, he would stop and sit on his hind legs, and 
shake the end of his tail at the sailor, and make faces in such a 
manner as to bring shouts of laughter from all that were looking 
on. 

Indeed, it was a great source of amusement to the sailors sim- 
ply to see how Jocko could climb. A monkey is made to climb, 
and Jocko could run up and down the ropes and rigging, and out 


THE SHIP. 


21 


Jocko’s leaps among the rigging. The sailor’s trick. The ship’s bell. 


upon the slenderest spars, as fast as a kitten can run about a car- 
pet. Sometimes he would spring across a long distance, and catch 
a rope hanging midway in the air, and then run hand over hand 
up or down, just as he pleased. At one time the sailors played 
him a trick by running a rope through a block and letting the end 
hang down where they thought that Jocko would go, hoping that 
he would jump at it and catch it, and that then his weight would 
pull the rope through the block and let him down to the deck. 
The plan succeeded admirably. The rope was, however, some- 
what heavy, and a little stiff, so that it did not let J ocko down fast 
enough to hurt him much when he came to the deck, but it fright- 
ened him prodigiously. When he reached the deck, he jumped up 
and ran limping away, looking, at the same time, quite ashamed, 
for every body was laughing at him. 

After this he was very shy of ropes that he saw hanging dang- 
ling in the air, and would not jump to any unless he saw that they 
were firmly secured at each end. 

Jocko made it a point to imitate every thing that he saw the 
sailors doing about the ship, provided it was within reach of his 
power. It is customary on board ships at sea to strike the hours 
upon a bell which is placed for this purpose in a convenient situ- 
ation on the deck. There are two of these bells, in fact, one at 
each end of the ship. The one that is near the stern of the ship 
is struck by an officer when the time arrives, and then, immedi- 
ately afterward, the one at the other end, where the sailors are, is 
struck by a sailor. The bells in both cases are struck by means 
of a small cord which is fastened to the lower end of the tongue. 


22 


THE SHIP. 


Jocko ringing the bell. A disaster. The water-cask. 

It was a great point with Jocko to run and strike the bell which 
was at the forward part of the ship whenever he heard the officer 
strike his bell at the stern. This would have done very well if 
he could only have struck it right ; but Jocko, with all his sagac- 
ity, could not count, and so, whatever may have been the number 
of strokes given at the stern, Jocko made only a confused dinging 
at the bows, which would have made mischief if the sailors had 
not known at once by the sound that it was only Jocko’s work. 
Indeed, the sailor whose business it was to strike the bell soon 
learned to observe whether Jocko was near or not when the time 
came ; and if he was near, he would run quick to the place and 
drive Jocko away from the bell just as he was reaching out his 
paw to the cord, and then ring it himself in a proper manner. 

Sometimes Jocko’s propensity to imitate every thing that he 
saw brought some disaster upon his own head. For instance, he 
once knocked himself over with a jet of water spouting out of a 
cask. The cask was one of several containing a supply of fresh 
water, which was kept on the deck of the ship for the use of the 
sailors. It was mounted on skids for the purpose of raising it 
high enough from the deck to make it convenient to draw the wa- 
ter, and there it was lashed securely. There was a plug in the 
lower part of the head of it, and the sailors, when they wished to 
draw the water, would pull out this plug, holding, of course, the 
pail or pitcher which they wished to fill under it to catch the wa- 
ter. 

J ocko, having seen the sailors pull out this plug a number of 
times, concluded one day, as he was passing by the place, that he 


THE SHIP. 


23 


Jocko gets a ducking. 


Description of the marling-spike. 



would try and see if he could not draw it out. So he seized it 

with both paws, and, 
after pulling it this 
way and that, as he 
had seen the sailors 
do, at length got it out. 
He was, however, im- 
mediately struck in the 
face by the jet of wa- 
ter that came out, and 
knocked over upon the 
deck. Pie jumped up, 
and scampered away 
up the rigging, drip- 
ping with wet, and frightened half out of his senses. 

At another time Jocko jammed his foot with a marling-spike, 
and this made him so angry with the marling-spike that he con- 
trived a way to throw it overboard. But perhaps some of my 
readers may not know precisely what a marling-spike is. It is an 
iron bar about a foot long, round at one end, and tapering to a 
point at the other. The round end is about as large round as a 
hoe-handle. The sailors use the marling-spike somewhat as la- 
dies use a bodkin. They employ it to make holes with in the 
canvas, when necessary, in sewing the sails, and also to open the 
strands of ropes and cables when they are splicing. 

Jocko saw one of these marling-spikes lying on the deck where 
a sailor had been at work, and he attempted to lift it. He sue- 


24 


THE SHIP. 


How Jocko contrived to throw the marling-spike overboard. 

ceeded in lifting one end of it, but just then he saw the sailor com- 
ing, and so he dropped it suddenly, intending to run away ; but the 
marling-spike fell upon his foot, and hurt him very much indeed ; 
so he ran away limping and crying aloud. 

“It is good enough for you, you little imp of mischief,” said 
the sailor. “ You are always meddling.” 

Jocko took great offense against the marling-spike in conse- 
quence of this misfortune, and so, watching his opportunity a few 
hours later, when the sailor had gone aloft to help to take in sail, 
he ran slyly down to the place, and seizing the marling-spike by 
the little end, he dragged it along to one of the lee scuppers, and 
pushed it down through. The scuppers are holes made along the 
margin of the deck to let the water run out that breaks over the 
bulwarks from high waves. They lead down through the deck 
and out through the sides of the ship. Of course, the marling- 
spike went out into the water, and immediately began to sink to 
the bottom. 

I say began to sink, for the water in that place was about five 
miles deep ; and though the marling-spike, being of solid iron, 
went down very fast, it took it nearly an hour to get to the bottom. 

When the sailor came back for his marling-spike it was gone, 
and he could not imagine what had become of it. 

“ I should think,” said he to himself, “ that that grinning ape 
had thrown it overboard if I supposed he had strength enough to 
lift it over the bulwarks.” 

He did not dream of Jocko’s having cunning enough to push it 
down through one of the lee scuppers. 


THE SHIP. 


25 


Jocko stealing potatoes. 


The cook after him. 


Tom’s cap. 


It was a famous amusement of Jocko’s to steal things from the 
deck, and run off with them up into the rigging, and keep them 
there a long while. One day he carried off half a dozen potatoes 
into the main top, and hid them there in a fold of the sail, and 
then, watching his opportunity, he pelted the sailors with them. 
Of course, in carrying them up he could only take one at a time ; 
and so he was obliged to run up and down six times to get them 
all there. He would have carried up more, but the cook, who had 
left the potatoes in a pan at the door of the galley, happened to 
see what he was doing, and ran at him with a rope’s end ; but 
Jocko saw him coming, and so, dropping the seventh potato, he 
ran off as fast as he could go without it, and then the cook took 
the rest of the potatoes in. 

There was a coarse-looking boy among the sailors, who was 
called Tom, that took a dislike to J ocko from some reason or oth- 
er, and was continually doing something to tease him. Jocko en- 
deavored to avenge himself for these affronts and injuries by play- 
ing tricks of various kinds upon Tom. One day, when Tom was 
sitting at his ease on a coil of ropes, with some other sailors 
around, who were listening to a story that one of their number 
was telling, Jocko came slyly down the shrouds until he was di- 
rectly over Tom’s head, and then, swinging himself down by means 
of a rope, he seized Tom’s cap by the top-knot, and made off with 
it up the rope as fast as he could. 

“ Who’s that pulled off my cap ?” exclaimed Tom. 

He looked about every way, but no one was to be seen who 
could have taken the cap, and before he thought of looking up- 


26 


THE SHIP. 


Tom can not recover his cap. How Carl tries. 

ward, Jocko had made his way with the cap in his paw to the 
foretop ; and there, at length, Tom and the sailors caught sight of 
him, sitting in the top with the cap on his head, and grinning. 
The cap was so large that, while the front part of it rested on 
Jocko’s head, the rest of it extended half down his back, like a 
clumsy cloak. 

Tom immediately began to run up the shrouds to get his cap ; 
but Jocko, as soon as he saw him coming, took off the cap, and 
holding it in one hand, while he climbed with his feet and with the 
other hand, he ran up the rigging to a higher place. Tom follow- 
ed him, and for some time chased the poor monkey about the rig- 
ging, without, however, coming nearer to him. At length he gave 
up in despair, and came down to the deck in a great rage, just as 
Carl was coming up from below. 

“ Never fear,” said Carl ; “ I’ll get the cap back for you.” 

Now Carl had trained Jocko to imitate him in all that he did, 
and this accomplishment, of which Jocko was very proud, Carl 
often made use of to great advantage in managing his monkey. 
The way in which he did this will appear by the course which he 
pursued on this occasion. 

He called to Jocko, and when he had made him attend, he climb- 
ed up a little way on the shrouds, and took his stand there where 
Jocko could see him. He had his cap in his hand. He made a 
low bow to Jocko, and then put his cap upon his head. Jocko 
did the same. 

Then he took off his cap again and held it in his hand. Then 
he put it upon his head again. Jocko imitated all these motions 


THE SHIP. 


27 


Jocko’s imitation. Making friends among the passengers. 

exactly. Finally, Carl held out his cap at arm’s length, and when 
Jocko had done the same, he let it drop to the deck. Jocko im- 
mediately dropped his, and then, of course, Tom, who was waiting 
below, had nothing to do but to pick it up. 

Jocko made some enemies, it is true, by his tricks and mischief, 
but he made many more friends by them, for his various acts of 
mimicry, and the funny antics that he performed, amused all on 
board. Sometimes the lady and gentlemen passengers, who occu- 
pied state-rooms in the cabin, and who were accustomed, when 
they were upon deck, to sit upon settees and camp-stools that 
were placed for them near the stem, used to ask Carl to come 
there with his monkey and let them see him. In these cases 
they would sometimes give Carl money, and this money Carl 
would carry to his father. 

Thus the voyage passed away very prosperously and pleasant- 
ly for two or three weeks, until, at length, the ship began to draw 
near to the Banks of Newfoundland. 


28 


A VISIT. 


How wide the Atlantic Ocean is. 


Carl learning to read. 


CHAPTER II. 

A VISIT. 

The sea which separates Europe from 
America is very wide. It is so wide that 
if it were frozen over, and there was a road 
across it on the ice, and a boy were to at- 
tempt to walk over it, and were to go at 
the rate of twenty miles a day, it would 
take him almost half a year to finish the 
journey. 

A sailing ship which should sail upon 
an average one hundred miles in a day 
would get across in a month; but often 
ships are so kept back by contrary winds and storms that they 
are six or eight weeks on the way. Steamers, on the other hand, 
which go about three hundred miles a day, can go over generally 
in ten days. Indeed, the great iron steamer Persia, in which I 
have just made the voyage, and in which the first chapter of this 
story was written, crossed in nine days. But to return to the 
story. 

One day, when the ship in which Carl was sailing had been out 
about three weeks, Carl was sitting near the bows, teaching him- 
self to read English by means of a tract which one of the passen- 
gers had given him, when a young man, having a white apron on, 



A VISIT. 


29 


Carl receives a summons from some passenger. 

and with no cap on his head, came from the after part of the ves- 
sel, and on approaching Carl accosted him by asking, 

44 Are you the boy that has got the monkey?” 

44 Yes, sir, ’’.said Carl. 

“And where is your monkey?” 

44 He is down below,” said Carl, “by my father’s berth.” 

44 Go and get him, and bring him here,” said the man. “I 
want you to go with me.” 

Carl had often been called upon to go with Jocko to the after 
part of the ship, in order to show him to the gentlemen and ladies 
there, and he was accordingly not surprised at this summons ; in- 
deed, he was pleased, for usually on such occasions he received 
some small sums of money from the persons that sent for him 
that enabled him to increase his father’s store. 

44 Make haste,” said the man. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “I will go down for him, if you will wait 
here until I come. I will be back in a moment.” So Carl went 
below to get Jocko,- and very soon returned with him to the deck. 

44 Come with me,” said the man. 

So saying, he led the way, and Carl followed, toward the after 
part of the ship ; but instead of going to the quarter-deck, which 
was the place where Carl had usually gone before when called in 
this manner to show his monkey, the steward, who was conduct- 
ing him, entered a door which opened upon a flight of stairs that 
led below. 

“Here is a lady,” said he, “down here in her state-room who 
wishes to see you.” 


30 


A VISIT. 


Carl enters the cabin. How he carried Jocko. The state-room. 

After reaching the foot of the stairs, Carl, following the stew- 
ard, entered a small but richly -furnished cabin. There was a ta- 
ble extending up and down the centre of it, with an elegant hang- 
ing shelf above, loaded with decanters and glasses, ^11 set in sock- 
ets to prevent their being thrown out of place by the motion of 
the ship. Carl had, however, very little opportunity to examine 
these things, for the waiter passed rapidly on and entered a little 
passage-way, with doors on each side going into the state-rooms. 
The doors were open. They were fastened open by a hasp. The 
steward stood at one of these doors and motioned Carl to go in. 

“ This is the boy,” said he. 

Carl went in, carrying Jocko under his arm. 

He found that the state-room was an exceedingly small place, 
not larger than a large closet. There were two berths on one side 
of it, and a sofa on the other. There was a lady upon the sofa. 
She was reclining upon pillows placed at the end of it. The 
room was lighted by one small round window, which contained 
only one pane of glass. There was a wash-stand built into the 
partition, and two tumblers placed in brass sockets above. There 
was a looking-glass, too, and various other conveniences required 
in such a place. The lady was of middle age, and her counte- 
nance expressed great gentleness and sweetness of disposition. 
She smiled on Carl as he came in, and asked him what his name 
was. Carl told her his name. 

“I thought that I should like to see your monkey,” said she, 
“ and so I sent for you to come to my state-room, because you 
see I am not w^ell enough to go out upon the deck.” 


A VISIT. 


31 


Carl and Jocko in the lady’s state-room. 


“ Oh ! I can come here just as well,” said Carl. 

“I have been sick almost all the voyage,” continued the lady. 
“ And so this is the famous Jocko. I am very glad to see him. 
He is a funny-looking fellow enough. But you had better sit 
down, though there is nothing for you to sit upon but the trunk.” 
In compliance with this invitation, Carl seated himself upon the 



CARL IN THE STATE-ROOM. 


32 


A VISIT. 


The lady’s conversation with the poor Italian boy. 


trunk, which stood upon the floor of the state-room, while Jocko, 
whom he had placed upon the wash-stand near, immediately 
climbed up to the top of a little set of shelves under the looking- 
glass, and perched himself there. 

“ So you are going to America ?” said the lady. 

“Yes, madame,” said Carl. “We are tired of being so poor, 
and of not having any place to live in, and so we are going to 
America.” 

“Could you not find any place to live in in Italy?” asked the 
lady. 

“It was very hard,” said Carl, “for the country was all full. 
All the land belonged to somebody, and all the houses had some- 
body in them. There was not any house or land left for us.” 

“And what do you expect to do in America?” asked the lady. 

“ Why, we are going to find some land that does not belong to 
any body,” replied Carl, “ and we are going to live upon that.” 

“And what are you going to do for a house?” asked the lady. 

“ If there is not any house there, perhaps we could build one,” 
replied Carl. Then, after pausing a moment, he asked, in rather 
a desponding tone, 

“Do you think we could?” 

Indeed, upon reflection, the idea of depending for a house on 
such a one as his father and mother and himself could build 
seemed to him rather a forlorn hope. 

“Not very well,” said the lady ; “ but that is not the way you 
will do. You will not attempt to build a house for yourself. 
You will buy one.” 


A VISIT. 


33 


The lady very kindly gives Carl information about America. 

“But we have not got any money,” said Carl — “at least not 
enough to buy a house.” 

“Ah! but your father will earn money very easily when he 
gets to America,” said the lady, “and your mother too. They 
pay four or five times as much for work in America as they do in 
France and Italy. You will all work as industriously as you can 
for a year or two for other people, and save the money, and then 
you can buy some land and a small house, and after that you can 
work for yourselves.” 

“I'll work,” said Carl. “ I will do the very best I can.” 

“ And what part of America does your father mean to go to ?” 
asked the lady. 

“I don’t know,” said Carl. “Is there more than one place? 
I thought it was all the same.” 

“Oh no,” replied the lady. “It is very different in different 
parts, and they raise very different things in different parts. In 
the middle part of the country they raise tobacco chiefly on the 
land.” 

Here Carl’s face involuntarily assumed a slight expression of 
disgust. He did not speak, but he determined in his mind he 
should not like to have any thing to do with raising tobacco. 

“ Then at the South they raise rice and cotton,” added the lady. 

“ I should like that better,” said Carl. 

“Ah ! but you can’t do that very well,” said the lady, “for at 
the South, where rice and cotton grow, the climate is sickly for 
white men, and so none but black men can work there. Very 
few of the immigrants from Europe go to the South.” 

28 C 


34 


A VISIT. 


The Western country. Farming. Carl forgets himself. 

“ What other places are there ?” asked Carl. 

“Why, there is the Western country,” said the lady, “where 
they raise wheat. The country is very fertile there, and the land 
is very smooth and level, and the wheat grows upon it in millions 
and millions of bushels.” 

“ We should like to go there,” said Carl, “ if we could only get 
some of the land. Is there any land there that does not belong 
to any body ?” 

“ No,” said the lady, “ not exactly, for all that does not belong 
to any body else is the property of the government ; but you can 
buy it very cheap. A man can earn enough by his work in two 
days to buy an acre of it.” 

“ That’s a very easy way to get it,” said Carl. “ Two or three 
acres would be as much as we should want, and father could earn 
money enough for that in a week.” 

“Ah! no,” said the lady, “you would want more than that. 
Two or three acres would do very well in Italy, where you could 
raise grapes, or figs, or olives, but in America they would want a 
hundred acres or more, and that it would take a year to earn 
money enough to buy. Then, besides, your father would want 
money enough to buy seeds, and a plow, and a yoke of oxen or 
some horses, in order to till his land to good advantage. It is gen- 
erally two or three years before the immigrants get money enough 
to buy a farm, unless, indeed, they bring some money with them.” 

“ Father has got some money with him,” said Carl. “ He car- 
ries it in a money-belt fastened around him.” 

Here Carl suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth, and was 


A VISIT. 


35 


The Northern country. 


Raising animals. 


Carl’s colt. 


sorry for what he had said, as his father had cautioned him not to 
tell any body about the money. 

“I am glad of that, for it will help him a great deal,” said the 
lady. 

“ Are there any other places in America besides these ?” asked 
Carl. 

“ Yes,” said the lady, “ there are the Northern States, such as 
Vermont and New Hampshire.” 

“ And what do they raise there ?” asked Carl. 

“ Animals,” said the lady. “ They raise oxen, and sheep, and 
horses, and pigs, and hens, and other such animals.” 

“ Could not they raise cotton and rice there ?” asked Carl. 

“No,” said the lady, “because the climate is too cold. The 
summers are not long enough and warm enough for the cotton 
and the rice to grow, and, even if the summers were right, the 
plants would be killed by the winter.” 

“ Could not they raise wheat there ?” asked Carl. 

“ Not very well,” said the lady, “ for the land is very hilly and 
rough, and is full of streams and springs of water ; so grass grows 
upon it better than wheat, and the people let the grass grow, and 
keep sheep, and horses, and oxen to eat it. Then at the end of 
the year they sell all the sheep, and oxen, and horses that they 
have to spare, and so they earn their money.” 

“I should like that,” said Carl. 

“Yes,” said the lady, “you might have a little colt, perhaps, 
and keep him and feed him until he grew up to be a horse.” 

Carl’s imagination was greatly taken with the idea of having 


36 


A VISIT. 


Why the lady was more interested in Carl than in Jocko. Good advice. 

a colt, and of seeing him gradually grow up to be a horse, and he 
determined to recommend to his father, as soon as they landed in 
America, to go directly to Vermont. He remembered the name 
Vermont, both because it was the first of the two which the lady 
had mentioned, and also because it was the one that was the easi- 
est to speak. 

After talking some time longer with the lady, Carl rose to go 
away. 

“ Come, Jocko,” said he, “ it is time for us to go.” 

Carl was surprised that the lady paid so little attention to 
Jocko ; but the truth was, she thought scarcely any thing of him 
at all. The people on deck, who had so often sent for Carl before, 
thought every thing of the monkey and nothing of the boy. This 
lady, on the other hand, was of that class of persons for whom the 
movements and aspirations of any human soul, however humble, 
have more of interest than the funniest possible tricks and capers 
that any monkey can be conceived to perform. 

“ Stop a moment,” said the lady, when Carl rose to go. “Can 
you read English ?” 

“I am learning,” said Carl. “ I can begin to read.” 

“ Then I am going to give you an English Testament,” said 
she. “ You can read a verse or two in it every morning and even- 
ing, and after you have read it you must pray to God to help you 
and to take care of you. You see that, even if you succeed in the 
end, you will pass through a great many dark hours of trial and 
sorrow on the way, and if you trust in yourselves alone you will 
often feel very disconsolate and wretched, and will be ready to de- 


A VISIT. 


37 


The gift. More visits to the kind lady. Information. 

spair ; but if you trust in God, you will be safe and bappy in his 
hands, whatever may befall you.” 

So saying, the lady opened a traveling -bag which lay near 
upon the floor by the sofa on which she was reclining, and took 
out a small Testament from it. It was a very pretty book, bound 
in red morocco. Carl was very much pleased with it. So, bid- 
ding the lady good-by, he took Jocko up under his arm, and went 
away to show his Testament to his father and mother. 

After this Carl went several times to see the lady, and he had 
many conversations with her. She inquired of him a great deal 
about Italy, and about the mode of life he had lived with his fa- 
ther and mother before he left his native land. Carl answered 
her questions as well as he could ; but he was so young when he 
first set out to cross the Alps that he could not remember a great 
deal about it. 

The lady also gave Carl a great deal more information about 
Vermont, and the farms and farmers there. She told how the an- 
imals fed on the grass that grew in the pastures and on the hill 
side during the summer season, while all the grass on the smooth 
and level grounds was allowed to grow tall, and was cut for hay, 
and put into great barns, to be given to the cattle in the winter. 
She told him that if he ever were to become a farmer’s boy in this 
region of country, it would be his business in the winter to get up 
early in the morning, and go out into the barn to feed the cattle 
with this hay, and to see that they were all warm and comfort- 
able. Carl thought he should like such a life as this very much. 


38 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


Light-houses. 


The Cape Race light. 


The sight of land. 


CHAPTER III. 

TROUBLE AT SEA. 

A light-house is built upon almost ev- 
ery important point or promontory that 
projects into the sea, in order that sea- 
men, when they approach the coast in the 
night, may see the light and be warned of 
the danger. The first light-house which 
can come in sight to ships sailing from 
England to America is one built upon 
Cape Race, which is the southern point 
of the great island of Newfoundland. 

It is not often, however, that vessels 
thus coming to America from Europe see this light at all. They 
generally go farther to the southward, and so do not approach the 
land until just before they arrive at Boston or New York. But 
the ship that Carl came in was driven far to the northward by a 
storm when they had been out but little more than two weeks, 
and thus Cape Race was the first land they saw after they left the 
coast of England. 

They were, of course, all overjoyed to see it. The cabin pas- 
sengers came out upon the quarter-deck, while the emigrants came 
up forward, and all crowded along the side of the ship and gazed 
eagerly at the land. They had yet almost a thousand miles to go, 



THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


39 


The cholera on board ship. Deception. Was it right? 

- • 

but still the open sea had been crossed, and they had come in 
sight of America ; so they all felt greatly encouraged, and thought 
that the hardships and trials of the voyage were all over. Unfor- 
tunately, however, they were all to begin. 

The first serious trouble which they encountered was the break- 
ing out of sickness on board. This sickness was cholera — a dis- 
ease which is very terrible when it makes its appearance in a 
crowded ship. There was one case of cholera on board in the 
early part of the voyage, but the passengers generally knew noth- 
ing of it. The officers of the ship kept it secret, in order not to 
produce alarm. The sick man had been taken away to a certain 
place in the ship which was set apart for a hospital. The man 
died, and the body was buried, as is usual at sea, by being sewed 
up in a canvas covering, with a heavy iron ball put in at the feet, 
and thus launched overboard into the sea to sink to the bottom. 
Some of the passengers knew of this death, but they were told 
that the man died of consumption. This was to prevent the sto- 
ry from being circulated among the passengers that the cholera 
was on board. The officers thought that if that were known it 
w^ould produce a panic, and any thing like a panic prevailing at 
such a time makes people much more liable to take the disease 
than they otherwise would be, and renders it less probable that 
they who do take it will recover. In order to prevent this evil, 
the officers thought it right for them to say what was not true in 
respect to the sickness of the man who died, but I think it was 
not right. 

For some time no other case except that one occurred ; but at 


40 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


The truth is known. Carl’s inquiries. 

length there were one or two others, and then the truth could not 
he any longer wholly concealed. People whispered it to one an- 
other that there was cholera on board. Each one, however, in 
communicating the tidings to his friend, charged him not to men- 
tion it to any one else, for fear of a panic. Still the tidings cir- 
culated slowly and secretly, until at length a strange and myste- 
rious gloom seemed to pervade the ship. Carl noticed this, but 
for some time he did not know the cause. He observed that his 
father and mother seemed to lose their cheerfulness, and to be si- 
lent and thoughtful. He saw people, from time to time, standing 
in little knots, and talking together, with anxious looks and in low 
tones of voice, that indicated something wrong. All this time the 
sea was smooth, the wind, though light, was fair, and the vessel 
was going on in the most pleasant and prosperous manner, and 
Carl could not imagine what was the matter. 

“ Mother,” said he one day, “ something is the matter on board. 
What is it ?” 

“ Oh, nothing,” said his mother ; “ we are going on very well 
indeed. ” 

“ I know it,” said Carl, “ but yet I am sure that something is 
the matter. I wish, mother, that you would tell me what it is.” 

His mother was very unwilling to tell him what was the mat- 
ter, for she thought that if he knew he would be would be afraid, 
and that would make him much more likely to take the disease. 

“Has the ship sprung a leak?” asked he. 

“ Oh no,” said his mother ; “ it is not that.” 

“ What is it, then, mother ?” he asked. 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


41 


Little Rosa. 


The sick man. 


Carl goes for help. 


“ Why, it is only that three or four of the passengers are sick, 
and one or two have died, and that makes people feel sorrowful. 
But we think that there will not be any more taken sick, and those 
who are sick now will get well, and then all our trouble will be 
over.” \ 

In one of the berths near where Carl’s father and mother slept, 
there was a man that had a little girl with him, who was about 
two years younger than Carl. She was a very pretty child, and 
she was so good-humored and patient, and she amused herself so 
well during the long and tedious days of the voyage, that she be- 
came a great favorite with all who knew her. Her name was Rosa. 

One day, when Carl came down to his father’s berth in order to 
get Jocko, for the purpose of taking him on deck, he saw that Ro- 
sa’s father was lying in his berth, which was the next one to Carl’s 
father’s, and that he seemed to be writhing with pain. Little Rosa 
was standing by his side looking on very sorrowfully, but not 
knowing what to do. She had a little doll, which Carl’s mother 
had made for her, in her hand. 

“What is the matter, Rosa?” asked Carl. 

“ My father is sick,” said she. “ Do you know where there is 
any medicine ?” 

“ No,” said Carl, “ but I will go and call my father.” 

So Carl went on deck immediately to find his father. He 
found him very soon, and brought him down to the place. 

The sick man seemed to be in great agony. There was anoth- 
er man standing near, who said that some persons were coming to 
take him away to the hospital. 


42 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


The dying father. Carl’s parents adopt little Rosa. 

In a minute or two the patient became a little easier, so that he 
could speak. His first attempt to speak, however, was only a 
groan. 

“ Oh, my God,” said he, in tones of despair, “ what will be- 
come of my poor little Rosa ?” 

“ I’ll take care of her,” said Carl’s father. “ Trust her to me; 
I will take care of her till you get well.” 

“ I shall never get well,” said the patient; “I am sure I shall 
never get well. I am struck with death.” 

“Then we will always take care of her,” said Carl’s father. 
“ My wife will ‘help me. We will be a father and mother to the 
poor child.” 

The sick man raised his eyes with a very imploring look, which 
seemed to be intended at once to thank Carl’s father for his kind 
promise, and to beg him not to forget to perform it. He also, at 
the same time, put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small 
canvas bag, like a purse, full of something very heavy. He put 
this into Carl’s father’s hand, and said, 

“ Take care of this, too, for her.” 

Another paroxysm of dreadful pain then came on, and, before 
he recovered from it sufficiently to speak again, he was borne 
away. Carl never saw him afterward. 

It is true that reports came for several days that he was better, 
and that he would soon be well. The people told Rosa so contin- 
ually, for she asked eagerly of every person that came by, who she 
supposed to belong to the ship, what they had done with her fa- 
ther. In answer to these questions, some told her one thing and 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


43 


What the people told Rosa. 


Carl in affliction. 


some another. Those that admitted that her father was sick al- 
ways said that he was better, and that he would be well in a few 
days. And thus poor little Rosa was expecting every day to see 
him come back to her for more than a week after his lifeless body 
had found its last resting-place on the bottom of the sea. 

Even Carl’s father and mother did not know certainly that Ro- 
sa’s father was dead, though they supposed that he was. They 
inquired several times in respect to him, but they could not gain 
any satisfactory information. In any event, they determined to 
take good care of Rosa. 

“I have promised,” said Carl’s father to his wife, “that you 
and I will be father and mother to Rosa.” 

“We will,” said his wife. 

“ Then I shall be her brother,” said Carl; “for if you are her 
father and mother, that will make her my sister.” 

“Yes,” said his father, “remember that. If any thing hap- 
pens to us, remember that.” 

Carl observed, after this, that the anxiety and suffering which 
had been depicted on the faces of the passengers on board the 
ship increased rather than diminished from day to day. At last, 
one day, as he was coming down toward the berths where his fa- 
ther and mother slept, his father came suddenly toward him and 
turned him away. 

“Go up on deck a while, my little Carl,” said he; “you can 
come down again by-and-by.” 

Carl went away, but, before he turned, he had opportunity to see 


44 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


The terrible havoc of the cholera among the passengers. 

two or three men standing near the berth, apparently much en- 
gaged in something that they were going to do. Carl thought, also, 
that he heard a sound of suppressed groans. 

Carl waited anxiously upon deck for about fifteen minutes, and 
then came down again. His father was sitting on a chest near 
the berth with his face buried in his hands. His mother’s berth 
was empty. 

“Where’s mother?” exclaimed Carl. 

His father looked up with a countenance expressive of great 
distress. At first he did not answer, and did not seem to know 
what to say. At length he said, in a tone of despair, 

“ She is sick, and they have taken her away.” 

So saying, he drew Carl up to him, and clasped him in his 
arms. He was almost overwhelmed with grief and fear, but he 
made a great effort to suppress his feelings for the sake of his boy. 

“ But, father,” said Carl, “ why did they not leave her here with 
us, so that we might take care of her ?” 

“ Ah ! because they have a better place somewhere in the ship,” 
replied his father^ “ where they can take better care of her, and 
give her the medicines that she needs. But she will be well again 
in a few days, and then she will come back.” 

He said this in such a despairing tone, however, that Carl was 
very little comforted by the assurance that the words conveyed. 
Carl burst into tears, and exclaimed, 

“Ah me! I shall never see my mother any more.” 

That night, when bedtime came, a universal solemnity seemed 
to reign among the passengers. Some sat in little groups about 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


45 


The terrible panic on board ship. 


Rosa and Camilla. 


the deck, talking together gloomily. There were others that 
kept themselves aloof from all company, as if they were afraid 
that, even in a brief conversation, they might catch the dreadful 
contagion. Others lay weeping in their berths, mourning the 
loss of some husband, or wife, or child, whom they had seen borne 
away to the sick department, from which they knew so few re- 
turned. 

These various indications produced a great impression upon 
Carl’s mind, and they would have produced a still greater one had 
he not observed how calm and composed his father appeared. 
Then little Eosa’s playful talk was a constant source of amuse- 
ment and even relief to him. Eosa was too young to understand 
the case fully. She believed what they told her of her father’s 
soon coming back, and in the mean time she amused herself with 
her doll, and seemed as gay and happy as ever. 

“Now, Eosa,” said Carl, “where are you going to sleep?” 

“ She can sleep in your mother’s berth,” said Carl’s father. 

“Yes,” said Eosa, “ and there will be room there for Camilla 
too.” 

Eosa had named her doll Camilla. 

“ Then tumble in,” said Carl : “ it is time for you to go to bed.” 

It is usual to make short work with dressing and undressing, 
even among the cabin passengers, on a voyage across the Atlantic, 
but among the steerage passengers there is generally scarcely any 
dressing or undressing at all. Eosa clambered into the bed as 
well as she could, and laid her head down upon the pillow. For 
a moment she shut her eyes, and made believe be asleep. She 


46 


TEOUBLE AT SEA. 


Rosa asleep in the berth. Carl’s resting-place. 

then opened them again, and looked toward Carl with a roguish 
smile. 

“ Go to sleep, Rosa,” said Carl. 

“ Yes,” said Rosa ; “ but first give me Camilla.” 

So Carl took up the doll, which Rosa had placed upon the deck 
while she climbed into the berth, and handed it to her. Rosa laid 
it down gently by her side, as if it had been an infant child, and 
covered it with the blanket. She then shut her eyes, and was 
soon fast asleep. 

Carl then, after seeing that Jocko was properly secured by his 
chain, arranged himself, as he usually did for the night, with a bag 
for his pillow. 

“ Are you going to bed now, father?” said he. 

“No,” said his father, “not just yet; I am going up on deck 
a little while. You will be asleep when I come down : shut up 
your eyes and go to sleep as soon as you can.” 

So Carl shut his eyes, and Jocko did the same. In a few min- 
utes all three, Carl, Rosa, and Jocko, were fast asleep, and even 
Camilla gave every outward appearance of being so. 

While Carl was asleep he dreamed a dream. He dreamed that 
he had landed in America, and gone to Vermont. There he saw, 
all around him, immense mountains covered with snow — far high- 
er and more imposing than the Alps. It was winter, and he was 
leading a glossy black colt, which he thought belonged to him, into 
a stone barn. The barn had a thatched roof, and a small window 
near one side of it, and a low door. Beautiful grape-vines, bear- 
ing great clusters of purple grapes, were climbing over the bam, 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


47 


Carl’s dream. 


Carl’s awaking. 


The sick father. 


and fig-trees, loaded with figs, were growing by the door. His 
mother was there with a basket upon her arm, which she was fill- 
ing with fruit for supper, and a herd of cows were coming in, with 
great bells, like those of Switzerland, hanging from their necks. 
The whole place was rocking and rolling, like a ship at sea. Just 
as Carl was going into the door of the barn with his colt, he felt 
an unusual lurch, and he put out his hand so eagerly to take hold 
of the door-post to save himself that he woke up. 

He heard a bustling sound near him, and voices in suppressed 
tones. He opened his eyes. There were two men standing before 
his father’s berth ; his father was getting out of it ; he was trying 
to get down. Carl could hear, also, that his father was uttering 
low but suppressed groans, as if he was in great distress, and as 
if the exertion which he was making increased it. 

Carl started up and gazed earnestly at the scene, wondering 
where he was, and what those men were doing. He was not more 
than half awake, and the recollections of his dream mingled them- 
selves with the realities before him in such a manner that his ideas 
were completely confused. He did not know what to do or say. 

In the mean time his father had descended from his berth, and 
stood supported by the two men, who seemed about to take him 
away. Presently he succeeded in drawing his money-belt out, 
and in handing it to Carl. 

“Here, Carl,” said he, faintly, “take this, and take good care 
of it.” 

He also drew from his pocket the little canvas bag which Ro- 
sa’s father had given him. He gave this to Carl without speaking, 


48 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


Carl left an orphan upon the emigrant vessel. 


a word. Immediately afterward he sank down fainting in the 
arms of two men, and they bore him away. 

All this passed so quickly that Carl was not fully awake before 
it was over. It seemed to him like a dream. He was ■so sleepy, 
too, that it was in vain he struggled to recover his faculties suffi- 
ciently to understand fully what it could mean. 

“ Ah me !” said he, “ how sleepy I am !” 

So saying, he sank down again upon the deck. He instinct- 
ively drew the bag and the money-belt under him to conceal them 
from view, and to prevent their being taken away while his father 
was gone, and then, in a few minutes, fell as fast asleep as before. 

And this is the last that Carl ever saw of his father and 
mother. 

He inquired for them very earnestly the next morning, but 
those whom he asked either could not or would not give him any 
information. 

The first person that he asked was one of the emigrant passen- 
gers whose berth was very near. His name was Conolly. 

“ Where is my father, Mr. Conolly ?” he said, looking up to him 
earnestly, and with eyes filling with tears. 

“ He is not far off, child,” said Mr. Conolly. “ Don’t be troub- 
led about him. Perhaps he has got up early and gone to take a 
walk upon deck. You will find him coming back soon.” 

“No,” said Carl, “he is sick, and they carried him away in 
the night. I wish I could find out where they have carried him. 
Ah me ! what shall I do 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


49 


A partial relief in Carl’s sorrow. Concealing the money-belt. 

Carl’s eyes just then fell upon Rosa’s face as she lay in her 
berth. She was sleeping quietly, with Camilla by her side. 

Whenever a person is overwhelmed with any grief or sorrow, it 
is always 'a source of relief to them to have some duty to perform 
or some responsibility to bear. The heart is thus divided, as it 
were, between the sense of sorrow and the weight of obligation, 
and the grief, of course, gets a smaller share. 

“ Here is poor Rosa,” said Carl to himself, “ and nobody to 
take care of her but me. I’ll take as good care of her as I can. 
I am her brother now, and all the friend she has got.” 

Carl then thought of the money-belt which his father had given 
him in the night. He lifted it up from under the bedding upon 
which he had been lying. It was quite heavy with the gold 
pieces which had been sewed into it. 

“I will buckle it around me,” said Carl; “that will be the 
best way to keep it.” 

So he contrived to put the belt in under his jacket, and to draw 
it around his body just over his shirt. When he brought it into 
the right position he drew the two ends together and buckled it 
tight. He contrived to do all this in a secret manner, so that no- 
body should see him, standing up for the purpose close to the 
berth. 

When this had been done, Carl took the little canvas bag which 
had belonged to Rosa’s father and put it in his pocket. 

“It is heavy,” he said, as he put it in. “I suppose there is 
money in it. I will keep it safe, and give it back to Rosa’s fa- 
ther when he comes.” 


28 


T> 


50 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


Conversation between Carl and the stewardess. 

Soon after this a woman whom they called stewardess came by. 
She was a woman that belonged to the ship, and her duty was to 
perform various services for the female passengers in the steerage. 
Carl asked her if she could tell him where they had carried his 
father and mother. 

“Ah! poor child,” said she, “have your father and mother 
been carried off?” 

“Yes,” said Carl, “and I can’t find out where they have put 
them.” 

“Why, they have taken them to the hospital, child,” said the 
stewardess, “if they are sick.” 

“ Where is the hospital ?” asked Carl, “ because I want to go 
and see them.” 

“Ah! you can not go and see them,” replied the stewardess ; 
“nobody is allowed to go there but the doctor and the nurses. 
If you were to go there you would catch the plague.” 

“ But I want to go, notwithstanding,” said Carl. “ I must go 
and see my father and mother.” 

“No,” replied the stewardess, “it can’t be allowed; besides, 
they will be back again soon. I have no doubt but they are get- 
ting better. Wait a day or two, and you will have them back 
again. And this poor child,” she added, turning to Bosa, “ where’s 
her father ? Is he sick ?” 

“Yes,” said Carl, “they have carried him away too.” 

“ Never mind,” rejoined the stewardess. “ Tell her, when she 
wakes up, that he is getting -well, and will be back again soon.” 

So the stewardess went away, saying to herself, “Poor chil- 


TROUBLE AT SEA. 


51 


Carl’s inquiries. 


Tom’ s answer. 


What was Carl to do ? 


dren l I pity them with all my heart. What will they do when 
they get to America ?” 

Carl determined now that he would look about the ship, and see 
if he could not find out where the hospital was. 

“ I will inquire, too,” he said to himself, “ of every one I meet. 
I shall find somebody at last who will tell me.” 

This he accordingly did. He obtained a great variety of an- 
swers to his inquiries, but no information. One man told him 
bluntly that if his father and mother were sick, and had been car- 
ried off to the sick-room, he never would see either of them again, 
and that he might as well give up all hope of it first as last. 

Among others, too, Carl met Tom upon the deck talking with 
two or three sailors, and he asked him. Tom brutally replied to 
his inquiry by saying, 

“Your father? Is he missing? I have not seen him any 
where lately. I rather think he may have gone ashore to get his 
breakfast.” 

At this the sailors who were standing with Tom laughed aloud, 
and Carl walked away, greatly grieved that any one could be so 
cruel as to make sport of his distress. 

All the inquiries which Carl thus made were fruitless. He could 
learn nothing more than that his father and mother were sick, and 
that he could not be permitted to see them ; so he concluded that 
there was nothing more for him to do but to return below and de- 
vote himself to the care of Eosa and Jocko, and of the money 
which had been intrusted to his keeping. 


52 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


Carl’s instructions to Rosa. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 

Rosa was a very pretty child, and she 
was always full of playfulness and good- 
humor. She was too young to understand 
much in respect to the logs of her father, 
or any of the other circumstances of her 
situation, and thus, after the first day, her 
spirits were very little affected by the for- 
lorn condition in which she was left ; and 
she laughed and played with Jocko on the 
deck just as if nothing serious had hap- 
pened to her. 

“You must not go far away from this place,” said Carl. 

“ Ho,” said Rosa, “ I wont.” 

“ And you must always obey me,” continued Carl, “ and do just 
as I say, for I am to be your brother now, you know.” 

“ Yes,” replied Rosa ; “I am very glad of that. I never had 
any brother before.” 

“ Did not you ?” asked Carl. 

“Ho,” said Rosa, “ only once — a great many years ago. I be- 
lieve I had a little brother a great many years ago, but he died.” 
“ How big was he ?” asked Carl. 



THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


53 


Eosa’s brother. 


The storm cofaing. 


The sailor’s wish. 


“I don’t know exactly,” replied Rosa, “but I suppose he was 
about as big as Jocko.” 

“ Well, now I am your brother,” said Carl ; “ and I am older 
than you, and am going to take care of you. So you must always 
obey me, and do just what I say.” 

“ Well,” said Rosa, “ I will.” 

During all the time that the sickness had been so severe on board 
the ship, the sky had been clear, the sea smooth, and the air hot 
and sultry. For the three last days there had not been a breath 
of wind, and the ship now lay lifeless upon the glassy sea, with 
her sails hanging idly against the masts, or swinging gently to 
and fro as the ship rocked upon the swell of the sea. At length, 
one day, when Carl, Rosa, and Jocko were upon the deck, they 
saw a bank of cloud extending all along the southern horizon. 
There were two or three sailors looking at it. 

“We are going to have some wind,” said one of them. 

“ I hope it will be a hurricane ,” said another, desperately. 

“Ay,” said the first sailor, “ so do I.” 

“ I should like to see a tornado coming, to blow this accursed 
pestilence out of the ship,” said the first. 

“ It will blow hard enough in the middle watch to-night, you 
may depend upon it,” said the other. 

“ Rosa,” said Carl, whispering into Rosa’s ear, “ we are going 
to have a storm.” 

“Are we?” said Rosa. “Do you think the ship will be 
wrecked ?” 


54 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


Carl’s care of Rosa. Preparing for rough weather. 

“ Oh no,” said Carl. 

“I wish my father would come back before the storm begins,” 
said Rosa. 

“Never fear,” said Carl, “I will take good care of you. Be- 
sides, it is a good strong ship, and I don’t think there is any dan- 
ger.” 

That evening, after supper, Carl went upon the deck again. 
Rosa wished to go with him, but Carl said she had better wait un- 
til he had been up to see how it was. 

“ I will go and see,” said he, “ while you and Jocko stay here. 
I will come down pretty soon and tell you all about it, and if it is 
pleasant up there, then we will go up.” 

So Carl went upon deck alone. He saw at once that a great 
change had taken place. The clear and beautiful blue of the sky 
was gone, and low, watery-looking clouds were scudding swiftly 
from the southward. A great many sailors were up upon the 
masts, taking in the sails, and tying them up with great ropes ; 
others were coiling the ropes that lay upon the deck, and making 
things snug generally. There was an officer on the deck who was 
continually shouting out commands, both to the sailors aloft and 
also to those about him on the deck. 

Just then one of the cabin passengers came by. 

“Are we going to have some wind, Mr. Martin?” said he, ad- 
dressing the officer. 

“ I hope so,” said Mr. Martin ; “ and I hope it will blow like 
the very fury.” 

So saying, Mr. Martin scowled, and set his teeth, and thundered 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


55 


The passengers are ordered below. The appearance of the steerage. 

out some new command to the sailors, as if he were filled with 
spite against the calm, and was prepared to welcome any kind of 
commotion that would break it up. 

After hearing this conversation, Carl thought it was not best for 
Bosa and Jocko to come on deck. Indeed, in a minute or two 
after this, a man came around and ordered all the passengers that 
were already on deck to go below. He gave this order in a very 
rude and imperious manner. 

“All you lubbers, here,” said he, “get down below as fast as 
you can, and take care you don’t show your heads on deck again 
for three days. We’re going to have a blow. Down with you, ev- 
ery mother’s son of you ! Away, boy!” This last was said to Carl. 

So Carl went below. He found Bosa there waiting to hear his 
report. 

“ Ho, Bosa,” said he, “ we can’t go upon deck ; they’re sending 
every body down. There’s going to be a storm, and we had bet- 
ter go to bed and go to sleep as quick as we can.” 

The steerage was crowded with people now, for every one had 
come down from above, and the whole place was filled with bus- 
tling movements, as well as with the sound of voices, and the noise 
of people going to and fro. This was so different from the dead 
and solemn silence which had prevailed for so many days in all 
those regions, that it made a great impression on Carl and Bosa, 
and led them to feel as if something very extraordinary was about 
to occur. 

“ Climb up into your berth, Bosa,” said Carl, “ and get to sleep 
as fast as you can, before the storm comes on.” 


56 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


A comfortable place to sleep at last. Carl’s prayer. The value of Jocko. 

So Rosa climbed into her berth and composed herself to sleep. 
Carl looked up to the berth above, which was the one where his 
father was accustomed to lie. 

“ If I were sure my father would not come home to-night,” said 
he to himself, “ I would see if I could not climb up into his berth 
and sleep.” 

He finally concluded that he would venture it ; and so, putting 
one foot upon the edge of Rosa’s berth, so as to use it for a step, 
he succeeded in clambering in. 

“Ah!” said he to himself, as he laid down his head, “this is a 
nice place ; I’m safe up here. When I am down upon the floor, 
the people are always blundering over me, and then scolding me 
for being in the way.” 

Carl then shut up his eyes, and prayed God to take care of him, 
and Rosa, and Jocko during the night, especially if there should 
be a storm. He did not forget Jocko during this prayer. His 
remembering him was partly because he really loved him, and was 
desirous that he should be taken care of as well as himself and 
Rosa, and partly because he was depending a great deal upon 
Jocko to earn money in America to buy the farm. 

“ If any thing were to happen to Jocko,” said he to himself, “I 
do not know what we should do.” 

After Carl had finished his prayer, he opened his eyes again, 
and peeped out upon the scene that presented itself before him. 
His place was so high that he had an excellent view, and he was 
greatly pleased with the opportunity which he now enjoyed of 
looking down upon all the crowd and confusion from a place where 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


57 


The scene which Carl witnessed from his berth. 


A rough sea. 


he was himself in safety. The noise and confusion were very 
great. There were men disputing and quarreling with each other 
about the places where they were to lie. Others were telling sto- 
ries, and laughing at the jokes contained in them. There were 
mothers scolding their children, and children crying. The whole 
floor was covered with people, who were lying down upon it in all 
possible positions — men, women, and children buried in blankets 
and cloaks, and forming shapeless heaps that were mingled to- 
gether in inexplicable confusion. 

“ I’m glad that I’m up here out of the way,” said Carl to himself. 

He then reached his head out over the edge of the berth, so as 
to look down into Rosa’s berth below. 

“ Rosa,” said he, “ are you asleep ?” 

There was no answer. 

“ Yes,” said he to himself, “ she is asleep, and I’ll go to sleep 
too.” So he shut up his eyes and went to sleep. 

About an hour afterward he awoke, or, rather, half awoke, feel- 
ing very uncomfortable. He perceived a sort of wriggling motion 
of the ship, as if she was restless and uneasy, and was struggling 
to escape from something or somebody. This motion made Carl 
feel giddy and sick. 

“Ah!” said he to himself, “it is the storm, I suppose, coming on.” 

He was, however, very sleepy, so he turned over upon the oth- 
er side, and was soon asleep again, though his sleep was uneasy 
and disturbed. 

In about an hour more he was awakened by hearing somebody 
call to him. He started up and listened. 


58 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


Rosa is alarmed. 


Carl quiets her fears. 


Going to sleep again. 


“ Carl,” said the voice, “ Carl, where are you ?” 

It was Rosa’s voice. Carl answered immediately, and looked 
down from his berth. By the dim light which shone in the place 
he could see Rosa leaning forward from her berth and looking for 
him. 

“ Carl,” said she, “ where are you, and what is the matter ?” 

Carl listened, and heard a great noise and uproar upon the deck 
above. He heard loud voices shouting out words of command, 
and heavy footsteps running to and fro upon the decks. He also 
could hear sounds like those made by blocks and heavy coils of 
rope falling upon the deck, or dragging along upon it. 

“Rosa,” said Carl, “here I am; and don’t be afraid. It is 
only the men on deck making ready for a storm.” 

“ It frightens me to hear them,” said Rosa. 

“ You must not be frightened,” said Carl ; “ we are all the safer 
for their doing these things. It shows they are taking care of the 
vessel. So you can shut up your eyes and go to sleep.” 

“ But, Carl,” said Rosa, “ what makes the berths wriggle about 
so ?” 

Rosa had become quite accustomed to the long and slow rolling 
of the ship, which is its usual motion in ordinary weather at sea. 
But the sharp and short pitching and tossing which is produced 
by a high wind coming up suddenly was a very different thing. 
She perceived that it was something unusual, and it made her afraid. 

“ Oh, it is not any thing,” said Carl ; “ it is only the storm. 
We must lie down, and go to sleep again.” So Rosa lay down 
and soon fell asleep. 


THE END OP THE VOYAGE. 


59 


Scene on board a ship in a heavy sea. 

When Carl awo£e the next morning, the ship was pitching and 
tossing about over the waves in a most fearful manner, and every 
now and then there came a heavy shock, produced by the striking of 
a sea upon the bows, which made the ship tremble from stem to 
stern, and filled all the passengers with dismay. In such cases, 
in a moment after the sea had struck the ship, the water would 
come down upon the deck above in a perfect deluge, which threat- 
ened utterly to overwhelm her. Nobody, except the sailors and 
those who had been regularly trained to the sea, could walk or 
even stand. One or two who attempted it were thrown violently 
down by the pitching of the ship, and seriously hurt. To prevent 
the occurrence of such accidents, the stewardess passed through 
the steerage, holding on as she went to the various fixtures at the 
sides, and directed all the passengers to keep quiet just as they 
were. 

“If you attempt to move about,” said she, “you will get thrown 
down, and break your legs and arms, and like enough your necks.” 

Carl leaned over and looked down as well as he could to see if 
Rosa was awake. She was awake, but she was lying perfectly 
still, clinging to her berth in great terror. 

“ Rosa,” said Carl, “ keep perfectly still.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosa, “ I will.” 

“And don’t be afraid,” said Carl. “It is a. good strong ship, 
and I think the storm will be over pretty soon.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosa, “ I think it will ; but I only wish my father 
would come and take care of me.” 

“ I’ll take care of you, Rosa,” said Carl ; “I can take care of 


60 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


The scene from the deck. The captain’s fears. 

yon just as well. If you want any thing, tell me. And now shut 
up your eyes again, and try to go to sleep.” 

Rosa was very willing to shut up her eyes, for she felt sick and 
miserable, and did not wish to talk ; but she could not go to sleep. 
As for Carl, he had better courage. He wished very much that he 
could go up on deck and see the storm, but he knew that he ought 
not to attempt it. 

If he had gone up, he would have beheld a fearful sight. The 
sea was every where white with foam, and dark, heavy clouds 
were scudding swiftly over the surface of it and across the sky. 
The wind was blowing with such fury that it was impossible for 
the ship to bear up against it at all, and so all the sails had to be 
taken in, and she was, as it were, abandoned wholly to the mercy 
of it. She was flying at a fearful rate over the waves, wherever 
the wind chose to drive her, and this was in a direction toward 
the land ; for though, at the commencement of the gale, the direc- 
tion of the wind was from the south, the course of it had shifted, 
and it was now blowing from the eastward. 

“ There is sea-room for us,” said the captain to the mate that 
morning, “ for twenty-four hours. After that, if the wind does 
not change or go down, God have mercy upon us.” 

Of course, the passengers in the steerage knew nothing about 
the ship’s distance from the land, nor the fact that the chief dan- 
ger to which they were exposed was coming into the vicinity of it. 
All that they thought of was this terrible pitching and tossing of 
the ship, and the awful shocks and concussion of the waves which 
struck upon her. They were afraid that they should be upset, or 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


61 


In a storm at sea the danger is in being too near land. 

that the seas would break the ship into pieces, or that in some oth- 
er way they should be destroyed in the open ocean. They would 
have been relieved, rather than alarmed, to be told they were draw- 
ing near to land. 

“ Stewardess,” said one of the emigrant women who was lying 
on the floor, and who saw the stewardess coming by, “how is it 
now ? is the wind going down ?” 

“Going down!” repeated the stewardess; “no; it is blowing 
harder than ever.” 

“Oh dear me!” said the woman, “what shall we do? Ain’t 
we pretty near the land ?” 

“ Pretty near the land !” exclaimed the stewardess, impatiently ; 
“ I’d give more money than ever I saw, if I had it, to be a thou- 
sand miles from land.” 

The wind, instead of going down within twenty-four hours, as 
the captain had hoped, only seemed to blow harder and harder. 
The children lay all this time in their berths, unable to leave them 
on account of the pitching and tossing of the vessel. They could 
hear the seas roaring without, and thundering in an awful manner 
against the sides of the ship, while the wind shrieked and howled 
through the rigging like some savage monster furious for its prey. 

With the exception of these sounds, a dead silence prevailed 
throughout the ship, both above and below. Carl thought it would 
have been a relief to have heard, in the intervals of the storm, the 
sound of the sailors’ feet trampling upon deck, or of voices giving 
commands, or of the rattling of ropes or blocks, or any other noise 
connected with human life or action. But nothing of this sort 


62 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


A catastrophe. 


One of the masts gone by the board. 


was heard. So far as the people on hoard were concerned, a dead 
and solemn stillness reigned every where, as if all effort had been 
abandoned, and even all struggle had ceased, and every one, in de- 
spair of farther help from any thing that they could do, were await- 
ing in silent awe the consummation of their fate. 

About five o’clock, just as Carl and Rosa were trying to go to 
sleep, there came an unusually heavy concussion from a sea, which 
seemed to strike the ship on her side, and immediately afterward 
there followed a frightful crash on the deck above, and down over 
the side of the ship where Carl and Rosa were lying. 

Rosa started up from her bed, and called out to Carl. 

“ Carl,” said she, “ what was that ?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Carl; “but we must not 
mind it, whatever it is. Lie down and go to sleep again.” 

“I can’t go to sleep,” said Rosa. 

“ The way is,” said Carl, “ to put your head down in its place, 
and shut your eyes.” 

“I do shut my eyes,” said Rosa, “but they won’t stay shut.” 

Carl lay still and listened. At every dash of the waves he 
heard a frightful thumping against the side of the ship close to 
his ear. It seemed as if something was going to break through. 
It was one of the masts that made this noise. The mast had 
been snapped off, and had gone overboard at an unusually heavy 
lurch which the ship had taken, and it now lay alongside, entan- 
gled with the rigging, and thumping heavily against the ship’s 
side at every dash of the seas. 

In a few minutes Carl could hear shouts and the movements of 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


63 


Cutting adrift. A temporary calmness. A new terror. 

heavy tramping over his head. Presently he could hear blows 
like those of an axe. 

“ What is that ?” said Posa, rousing herself up again. 

“ I don’t know,” said Carl. “ They are cutting something, 
but I don’t know what.” 

In a few minutes the sound of the thumping ceased, and also 
that of the blows of the axe. A few more shouts and calls were 
then heard, and the sound of feet, as of persons going away, and 
then all was still again except the thundering of the seas against 
the sides of the vessel, and the howling of the winds. 

The crash occasioned by the falling mast had for a moment 
produced a universal excitement in the steerage. Every body 
had started up to ask what was the matter, and s^ome screamed 
aloud in their terror ; but when the sound of the thumping ceased, 
this excitement gradually subsided, and the people became tolera- 
bly calm again. 

It was not long, however, before they were all roused again by 
a shock that produced universal consternation. The ship struck 
upon the rocks. The sensation was as if some mighty monster 
had given her a sudden and violent push, which threw every body 
out of their places. The whole company of passengers were in- 
stantly thrown into a state of terror and confusion. A loud out- 
cry burst from every part of the ship. The men leaped from the 
places where they had been lying, and struggled together at the 
ladder to get upon the deck. The women were beside themselves 
with terror. Some shrieked, some fainted or fell into convulsions ; 
some were calm, but looked bewildered as if out of their senses, 


64 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


Terrible panic of the passengers. The children in consternation. 

and many were mute and motionless with despair. In the mean 
time the ship, as she rose and fell upon the seas, thumped heavily 
upon the rocks in the most awful manner. 

The hatches* had been shut down for most of the time during 
the storm, but now they were opened, and every body was eager 
to get up upon the deck. The passengers imagined that some- 
how or other the ship was sinking, and that, unless they could get 
out of her, they would all be drowned. So they crowded together 
to the stairs, and then struggled and fought with each other to get 
up, uttering shouts, and screams, and outcries of all kinds, that 
were truly terrific. Some were squeezed or trampled upon in -the 
press until they screamed with pain and terror ; others were clam- 
orously vociferating to their friends — women calling their children, 
and husbands their wives ; others were shrieking hysterically in 
their fright without any object or design, and as there were more 
than one hundred passengers in the steerage, nearly all of whom 
joined in making this confusion, the scene was terrible beyond 
description. 

In the mean time Carl and Rosa remained in their berths look- 
ing on, utterly confounded, and not knowing what to do. The 
thumps and concussions of the ship were so great that they were 
obliged to hold on firmly to the edge of their berths in order to 
keep their places. In this position, with their heads raised a lit- 
tle, they were looking down on the scene that was passing before 
them. 

* The hatches are the covers of the openings which lead below from the deck. 
They are shut down in storms to prevent the seas from coming in. 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


65 


Carl’s prudence. “ When you don’t know what to do, do nothing.” 

“ Carl,” said Rosa, at last, in a faint voice, “ they are all going. 
Had not we better go too ?” 

“We can not go yet,” said Carl ; “ they are all pushing each 
other, and we are not strong enough to push among them.” 

“ Then what shall we do?” asked Rosa. 

“I don’t know,” said Carl. “We must wait a little, and see 
what will happen.” 

It was a maxim that an excellent father once taught his son, 
“When you don’t know what to do, do nothing.” An excellent 
maxim it was, and Carl, though he had never heard it stated in 
words, was taught it in substance by his instinctive good judgment. 
It was well in this case that he acted as he did, for of those who 
went upon deck in this scene of confusion, a large number were im- 
mediately destroyed. The seas, at short intervals, were breaking 
over the ship ; and as all was in confusion on the deck, and there 
was nobody there to take charge of them or give them any cau- 
tions, by the time that twenty or thirty had got up, and while they 
were trying to find some place of shelter or some means of escape, 
a heavy sea would come upon them unawares, and sweep away half 
or more of them in the boiling surges. Some would save them- 
selves, as the sailors did, by seizing hold of the bulwarks or sud- 
denly winding the coil of a rope around their bodies ; but great 
numbers were swept away and drowned. 

Others, in their terror and despair, leaped into the sea in hopes 
of swimming to the shore. They saw the shore not far from them, 
and without thought they leaped into the water in hopes of reach- 
ing it. Of these, however, scarcely any were saved. Nearly all 
28 E 


66 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


Different courses of the different passengers. 


of them were either immediately overwhelmed in the boiling surges, 
or killed by being dashed against the rugged rocks which formed 
the shore. 

When at length the greater portion of the passengers had gone up 
to the deck, the confusion and excitement in the steerage gradually 
subsided. There were still, however, a number of persons that re- 
mained below. Some of these remained because they thought that 
there was no hope for them, and so they determined quietly to await 
their fate where they were. Then there were mothers with young 
children, who could not bear the thought of exposing their helpless 
babies to the wind and sea which they heard roaring and thunder- 
ing over the deck above. Others remained below because they 
really thought it was the safest and best place. Carl overheard 
one of the men say to another, 

“ She can’t go down , for she is on the rocks, and this is the 
safest place for us to be in till daylight.” 

“But she may go to pieces,” said the other. 

“ Yes,” replied the first, “I expect that she will ; and if she does, 
it will make no difference to us whether we are on deck or here.” 

“ Rosa,” said Carl, “ I think we had better stay where we are 
till morning.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosa, “ I think so too.” 

“ Or at least for a while, ’’added Carl, “till we see what will hap- 
pen next.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosa, “ that is the best thing that we can do.” 

The noise and uproar which was heard upon deck gradually di- 
minished. So, in fact, did the violence of the concussions pro- 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


67 


Hopes. Getting a line ashore. Day-dawn. 

cluced by the shocks of the seas and the striking of the ship upon 
the rocks. The reason of this was that the tide was going down, 
and the wind also was subsiding. Still it blew fearfully, and the 
wind from time to time struck the ship with such force that those 
who remained below would start up from their places and look 
wildly about, as if they expected to see the vessel going to pieces. 
In the intervals of these shocks, the children could hear on the deck 
the noise of sailors moving to and fro, and of ropes and blocks rat- 
tling, and shouts like commands given by officers to men. About 
midnight, one of the men who had remained below went up to the 
deck to sfee what they were doing. 

In a few minutes he came down again, saying, 

“ They are trying to get a line ashore. If they do it, there’s a 
chance to get off to-morrow morning.” 

“ That’s good news for us, Rosa,” said Carl. 

“ Yes,” said Rosa ; “ but how can we go ashore on a line?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Carl ; “ but there must be some way, or 
else they would not say so.” 

Both Rosa and Carl felt considerably relieved by the gleam of 
hope which the story of the line had awakened in their minds. 
They remained quiet for some hours, speaking to each other occa- 
sionally, and watching the sounds which came to them from the 
deck, but not moving. 

At length they saw a faint gleam of gray light coming down the 
hatches, which looked like the approach of morning. 

“Rosa,” said Carl, “I think it is going to be morning.” 

“I am glad of that,” said Rosa. “ Then we will get up.” 


68 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


The children get up and go on deck. The terrible scene. 

“ We will wait a little longer,” said Carl, “till it grows lighter.” 

So they waited about half an hour longer, and then Carl said it 
was time for them to get up. The concussions of the ship had 
now nearly ceased, so that the children could get down from their 
berths without much difficulty. Carl got down first, and then 
helped Rosa out. 

“Now,” said Carl, “take hold of me and hold carefully. We 
will leave Jocko here till we go up and see what is to be done.” 

As the children passed across toward the stairs that led up to the 
deck, they observed that there were very few persons left below. 
Nearly all had gone up in the course of the night. When they 
reached the stairs, which were short and steep like a ladder, Carl 
went up first, and Rosa followed. When they arrived on deck and 
looked around, they beheld a terrible scene of ruin and confusion. 
The masts had been carried away, and the decks were encumber- 
ed with broken spars and entangled rigging. Here and there, in 
various places about the deck, groups of people were huddled to- 
gether, wherever they could find shelter from the wind and sea. 
Many of these persons were almost exhausted from exposure to the 
cold and wet. Some of them, indeed, were actually perishing, and 
every heavy sea that struck the ship washed two or three away, 
and ingulfed them forever in the foaming billows, where they sank 
never to rise again. 

In the forward part of the ship a company of sailors were at 
work rigging an apparatus to convey the people that were still alive 
to the land. They had already succeeded in getting a cable ashore. 
The way in which they did it was this. They first fastened the 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


69 


How the sailors got a rope to the shore. 


A fearful conveyance. 


end of a small rope to a cask, and then threw the cask overboard 
toward the land, retaining the other end of the rope on board. The 
dash of the waves washed the cask toward the shore, and finally 
threw it up against the rocks, where some men who had assem- 
bled there succeeded in catching it, and in thus getting hold of the 
line. It was a moonlight night, so that they could succeed in do- 
ing this very well. The sailors on board then fastened their end 
of the line to the end of a cable, and thus the men on shore drew 
the end of the cable to the land. 

When they had got it there, they secured it to a post which they 
set in a crevice of the rocks, high up from the sea, while the sail- 
ors fastened the other end to the stump of the mast. And now 
they had a tub, made of a very large cask sawed in two, which they 
were going to suspend to this cable by means of two rope-rings con- 
nected with a band of ropes which passed around the rim of the 
cask, and was secured there by proper lashings. 

When they had got the cask suspended, they fastened two lines 
to it, one of which was to go to the shore, while the other remain- 
ed on board the vessel. The shore-line was to enable the men on 
the rocks to draw the cask along the cable to the land, and the other 
was for the sailors on board to draw it back again. When all was 
ready, they put two of the passengers into the cask, and then giv- 
ing a signal, the men on the rocks drew it to the shore — the rope- 
rings running along the cable, and the cask with the two people in 
it being suspended from it over the boiling surges, which moved 
and tossed their foaming crests below as if they had been living 
monsters furious for their prey. 


70 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE, 


The landing-place of the passengers. Scene of the shipwreck. 

When the cask reached the shore, the passengers in it landed on 
a sort of shelving surface of the rock, just below where the end of 
the cable had been secured. Carl and Rosa watched the operation 
from a place of shelter which they had found upon the deck, where 
they were tolerably well protected from the spray. The process 
had been going on for some time when Carl and Rosa came up. 



GETTING ASHORE. 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


71 


The energy of the captain preserves order among the passengers. 

“ I should not dare to go ashore in that way,” said Rosa. 

“ W Qmust go in that way, ’’said Carl. “ There is no other way.” 

“ Then let us go now,” said Rosa. 

“ No,” said Carl. “ There are a great many people that want 
to go first, and they are all pushing and crowding, I suppose. We 
will wait till there are not so many.” 

Carl was mistaken in supposing that the order in which people 
went on shore was determined by the pushing and crowding. The 
captain of the ship, who was a very energetic and determined man, 
took the direction of the whole proceeding, and preserved admira- 
ble order. He stood by with one pistol in his hand and another in 
his belt. As soon as the tub was first ready for the conveyance 
of the passengers on shore, he called out to the seamen. 

‘‘Now, my lads, be cool and deliberate, and take your time. By 
going on regularly and in order we shall all get safe ashore, and 
don’t you have any fear that the regular order of proceeding will be 
interfered with. The moment I see any one disposed to interfere 
with it on the part of any man, passenger or seaman, it will be my 
duty to shoot him down on the spot, be he who he may, and you 
have known me long enough to know whether or not I shall do my 
duty.” 

There were two or three strong men just ready to make a rush 
for the tub as soon as it should be ready, in order to be the first 
to get in ; but the captain advanced to the foremost of them, and, 
raising his pistol, ordered him to stand back. 

The man began to fall back, asking, at the same time, when it 
would be his turn. 


72 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


The captain’s arrangements for sending the people on shore. 

“ It will be your turn last” said the captain. “ You shall share 
the honor with me of being the very last to leave the ship. ” 

The captain then looked around and selected the two most fee- 
ble and exhausted-looking women that he could find, and put them 
into the tub. They lay down in it almost lifeless. As soon as 
they had gone the captain selected two others, and brought them 
forward so as to have them ready. Thus the work went on, the 
captain selecting the feeblest and the most helpless — the mothers 
with young children, and those most exhausted from exposure — 
to go first, and requiring all the strong and vigorous to wait. In 
this manner the process had been going on for an hour or more, 
when Carl concluded that he would go to the place and see when 
his and Rosa’s turn would come. 

“ I’ll go and see,” said he, “ and pretty soon I will come back 
again.” 

But Rosa was afraid to be left alone. She begged to be allow- 
ed to go with him. 

“No,” said Carl, “you will only get knocked about. I will 
go alone first, and then come back to you.” 

So he walked along toward the bows of the ship, for the cable 
upon which the passengers were going to the shore was attached 
to the stump of the foremast. There were a great many persons 
there waiting for the captain to call upon them to go. The ship 
was now nearly still, and the sun had risen so high as to make 
it tolerably warm and pleasant, so that the passengers who had as- 
sembled were no longer suffering much from the cold and wet, and 
those that had been nearly exhausted were beginning to revive. 


THE END OF THE VOYAGE. 


73 


The captain takes care of Carl and Rosa. 

When Carl arrived at the place, he stood for a moment looking 
on to see the sailors put two men into the tub. As soon as they 
were in and the tub had gone, the captain began to look around to 
see who should go next, and his eye fell upon Carl. 

“ My boy,” said he, “ who do you belong to ? Where are your 
father and mother ?” 

“ I don’t know, sir,” said he. “ They were sick, and were taken 
away, and I don’t know what has become of them.” 

“And who is with you now?” asked the captain. 

“Nobody but Bosa,” said Carl — “Bosa and Jocko.” 

“Where is Bosa?” asked the captain. “Go and bring her, 
and you and she shall go ashore next.” 

So Carl went back immediately after Bosa. He found her 
waiting patiently for his return. 

“ Come, Bosa,” said he, “come ; we are going ashore next.” 

So he led Bosa along toward the bows. There he placed her 
in a secure position, and told her to wait while he went below for 
Jocko. 

“And bring Camilla too,” said Bosa. 

So Carl went down below. He found Jocko waiting there for 
him, very restless and uneasy, wondering where every body had 
gone. 

“ Ah ! Jock©,” said Carl, “ are you getting out of patience ? I 
don’t wonder. But our turn has come now.” 

So saying, he unfastened Jocko, and took him under his arm. 
He also took Camilla from the place in the berth where Bosa had 
left her. He was then ready to go up. 


74 


THE END OF THE VOYAHE. 


Carl’s forethought. 


Going ashore on the line. 


The breakers. 


“But stop,” said he; “ there are some sea-biscuit in my father’s 
bag, and I will take two or three of them, so that we may have 
some breakfast when we get ashore.” 

So he opened the bag and took out three sea-biscuit, saying to 
himself as he took them out, one by one, 

“There’s one for Rosa, one for Jocko, and one for me. Ca- 
milla does not need any.” 

Then, with Jocko under one arm, and his biscuit under the oth- 
er, and Camilla in his pocket, he climbed up the steep steps of the 
ladder which led to the deck, and there soon rejoined Rosa. 

“Now, Rosa,” said he, “come with me.” 

So saying, he led the way to where the captain was, though, on 
account of the ship’s having keeled over when left by the tide, the 
deck was so sloping that it was difficult for them to walk. 

“ This is Rosa, sir,” said Carl to the captain. 

“ Ah !” said the captain ; “ very well ; you shall go now.” 

So the captain put Carl and Rosa into the tub, and the men on 
the rocks drew them safe to land. 

Carl was considerably afraid while they were making the pas- 
sage, but he endeavored to conceal his fears, so as not to alarm 
Rosa. He sat quiet and composed in the tub, without attempt- 
ing to look over the side of it, though he could hear the breakers 
roaring against the rocks below him with a sound like thunder. 

Jocko lay all the time perfectly still in Carl’s arms. He looked 
anxious and uneasy, and he would have been very much terrified 
if he had not placed so much confidence in Carl’s power to take 
care of him in any emergency. 


AMERICA. 


75 


The shipwrecked passengers on shore lingering near the wreck. 



CHAPTER Y. 

AMERICA. 

The tub in which Carl and Jocko were 
conveyed to the shore made a great many 
more passages to and fro between the ship 
and rocks, conveying always two and some- 
times three — as, for example, when there 
was a small child to come in its mother’s 
arms — of the passengers at a time. As 
fast as the passengers reached the rocks, 
the people that had assembled there took 
them to places of shelter. Those that had 
the tub. remained on the deck during the night 

were many of them so exhausted that they could not stand, and 
they were carried by the people on the shore across a field to an 
old deserted house which stood about half a mile from the shore, 
where a fire was built to warm them, and some refreshments were 
provided. The others — those that were still well and strong — re- 
mained on the rocks watching the new arrivals in the tub. Some 
were waiting for the coming of relatives or friends who yet remain- 
ed on board. Others stopped from curiosity or from a desire to 
see the last of the passengers — and then the crew and the captain 
— come safe to land. Others still waited in hopes that they might 
find some means of recovering their effects from the wreck after 
the passengers had all been saved. 


76 


AMERICA. 


Carl and Rosa in America. Energy and cautiousness. 

Carl and Rosa remained a few moments on the rocks among 
these groups of by-standers, looking on bewildered by the strange- 
ness of the scene, and not knowing what to do. Rosa kept close 
to Carl, holding him by the hand. Carl had the three biscuits 
under his arm, while Jocko sat perched upon his shoulder. 

At length Carl began to think it best for him and Rosa to go on. 

“ Rosa,” said he, “I don’t think it is worth while for us to stay 
here any longer. We can’t do any good. I suppose this must be 
America, and I think we had better walk along into the country.” 

“Well,” said Rosa, “ I am ready to go.” 

So they walked along. They first ascended the rocks until they 
came to the place where the path began that led across the field. 
There were persons going to and fro along this path. Just before 
them were a party carrying one of the female passengers who was 
so exhausted that she could not walk. They were carrying her 
upon a litter which they had made for the occasion. 

“ I expect that she is almost dead,” said Rosa. 

“ Yes,” said Carl ; “ that is because she was on deck all night 
in the cold and wet. It is lucky for us we staid in our berths.” 

It is very necessary to be energetic in emergencies, and they 
only who are so will go on prosperously in the world ; but there 
is such a thing as being too eager, and pressing forward too urgent- 
ly in times of difficulty and danger. They who walk get to the 
end of the journey sooner than those who run, if they only walk 
perseveringly and steadily, and do not waste time and lose oppor- 
tunities by remissness and delays. Thus it was much wiser in 
Carl, at the time of the shipwreck, to remain with Rosa quietly 


AMERICA. 


77 


The house occupied by the passengers. 


The children traveling on. 


below until morning, so long as he watched the course of events, 
and was ready to go ashore when the time came, rather than to 
have joined the throng that crowded to the deck in their eagerness 
and impatience to get to land, and to have remained there all night 
exposed to the cold and wet, and to all the fury of the wind and sea. 

After walking along the path through the field for some time, 
the children came to the house where the passengers had been con- 
veyed from the rocks. The house seemed very full, and there 
were a great many persons going and coming about the doors. 
Carl stopped for a moment to look at the house. The people that 
were going and coming seemed too busy to take any notice of him. 

“ Rosa,” said he, “ I suppose they have got something to eat in 
that house, and perhaps a fire. Are you cold ?” 

“ No,” said Rosa, “ I am not cold, now that the sun is shining.” 

“Nor am I,” said Carl ; “ and so I think that we had better 
go on. Besides, I do not think there is room enough for us in that 
house, and I don’t think there will be enough to eat for all the 
people that are hungry.” 

“ Then we had better go on,” said Rosa, “and by-and-by we can 
stop and eat the biscuit.” 

“So we will,” said Carl. ^ We will stop when we come to a 
brook or a spring, where we can get some water to drink.” 

They accordingly walked on. The path soon became a road ; 
the road led through fields, in some of which the Indian corn was 
growing. Carl wondered what this plant could be. He had nev- 
er seen it before. 

By-and-by they came to a house. It was a small house by the 


78 


AMERICA. 


The road-side cottage. Carl encounters an American boy. 

road side, with a yard in front full of shrubbery and flowers. The 
house was painted white, and there was a white fence. 

“ What a pretty place it is !” said Rosa. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “it is a very pretty place indeed.” 

Carl was surprised at the size of the windows in the house, and 
at the large panes of clear glass. The small houses that he had 
been accustomed to see in Europe were mere cabins, with very 
few windows in them, and those extremely small. 

The children walked on, and they found the country more and 
more pleasant as they proceeded. 

“ I suppose there is no doubt but this is America,” said Carl, 
“but I should like to be really sure.” 

“Then you had better ask somebody,” said Rosa. 

“ I will,” said Carl ; “ I will ask the first man I meet.” 

But instead of a man, the next person the children met was a 
boy. He was a boy apparently about fourteen years old ; he was 
driving a cow. As soon as Carl and Rosa came opposite to him, 
Carl addressed him, saying, 

“ Is this America ?” 

“America!” repeated the boy, very much astonished at such a 
question. He thought Carl asked it in some way as a joke. But 
before he had time to think much about it, his attention was caught 
by Jocko, who was sitting all this time on Carl’s shoulder. 

“ Where did you get that monkey ?” said he. 

“ He is my monkey,” said Carl. 

“Where did you get him, and where did you come from?” 
asked the boy. 


AMERICA. 


79 


Carl and Rosa find a pump where they stop to eat their lunch. 


“We came over in a ship,” said Carl; “and the ship was 
wrecked last night down here on the rocks, and we have just got 
on shore.” 

“Is there a wreck down on the rocks?” exclaimed the boy. 
“ My stars !” 

And, without saying a word more, he dropped the stick with 
which he had been driving the cow, and leaving her to eat grass 
by the road side, he ran off as fast as he could go in the direction 
from which Carl and Rosa had been coming. 

“ He would not answer us,” said Rosa. 

“ No,” said Carl ; “ but it is America, I have no doubt.” 

So they walked on. 

Presently they came to another house, and, as they drew near 
to it, they saw that in a yard by the side of it there was a pump, 
with a tub before it, for watering horses. The pump was raised 
a little above the ground around it, and there were flat stones laid 
at the sides of it, which served for steps and a platform. 

“Ah!” said Carl, “now here is a good place to get some wa- 
ter, and I think they will let us sit on these stones to eat our bis- 
cuit.” 

So they went to the place. Carl began to pump some of the 
water for Rosa to drink, and then he pumped for himself and drank. 
Jocko drank at once out of the tub, standing upon the margin of 
it, and putting his lips down to the water. As he did this, he 
prevented himself from falling in by holding on with his hands on 
each side, in a very comical manner. 

When they had all drunk, the children sat down on one of the 


80 


AMERICA. 


Jocko amusing the children. 


Lucy conversing with Carl. 


stone steps, and began to eat their biscuit. They gave Jocko his 
full share, and he ate what they gave him with great eagerness, 
sitting up, while he did so, on his hind legs, and holding the piece 
of biscuit in his hands. At every mouthful he would look up at 
Carl and Rosa, and wink at them in the most comical manner, 
which made them laugh very much, though he himself remained 
perfectly sober through the whole. 

Some children, who lived in the house, seeing the monkey, came 
out to look at him. They seemed to be afraid to come near, but, 
after advancing a short distance from the door toward the pump, 
they stood with their hands behind them, wondering what the 
strange spectacle could mean. 

“Come nearer,” said Carl, “if you wish to see the monkey.” 

“ Where did you get him ?” asked one of the children. 

“He came from England,” said Carl. “We came in a ship, 
but the ship was wrecked on the rocks.” 

On hearing this, the children ran to tell their mother that there 
were a boy and a girl sitting by the pump that had been ship- 
wrecked on the coast, and that they had a monkey. 

“Ah!” said their mother. 

“Yes,” said the children, “ and we are going out to see them 
again.” 

So the two children went out to see Carl and Rosa again. This 
time they went rather nearer than before, though still not very 
near. They were a little afraid of the monkey. 

“Can your monkey dance?” asked one of the children named 


AMERICA. 


81 


Jocko can not dance without music. Carl’s flageolet lost. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “lie could dance if we only had any music 
for him to dance by. He will dance if you will sing.” 

Here Lucy laughed aloud. The idea of her singing to make mu- 
sic for a monkey to dance by seemed to her exceedingly amusing. 

“ What kind of music do you commonly have?” she asked. 

“ Why, my father had an organ,” said Carl, solemnly. 

“Where is your father?” asked Lucy. 

“ He is dead,” said Carl, “and my mother too. They died on 
board the ship.” Carl said this in a very mournful tone, and 
Lucy pitied him very much indeed. 

After a moment’s pause her thoughts reverted to the monkey 
again, and she asked Carl if there was any other kind of music . 
that the monkey ever danced to. 

“ Yes,” said Carl, “ I used to play on a flageolet. I had a 
flageolet, and I could play four tunes on it ; but my flageolet is in 
my father’s chest on board the ship, and I don’t suppose I can 
ever get it out.” 

“ That’s a pity,” said Lucy. 

“ And I don’t see that there is any other way for him to dance 
unless you will sing,” continued Carl. 

“Well,” said Lucy, “I will sing.” 

So Lucy began to sing a little dancing song, and Jocko, on be- 
ing ordered to do so by Carl, immediately began to dance about, 
keeping time with the music. In his dancing he turned round and 
round in a very comical manner, so much so that Lucy could not 
go on with her singing, but burst out into a long and joyous fit of 
laughter. 


82 


AMERICA. 


Lucy’s kindness. A sudden change in her mother’s charity. 

After a little while Lucy concluded to ask her mother to let her 
give Carl and Rosa something for breakfast that would be better 
than a hard biscuit, which was all they seemed to have. So she 
and her sister went into the house and asked her mother to give 
them something. 

“Yes,” said her mother, “ I shall be very willing to give them 
something. It is always our duty to be charitable to the poor.” 

“ They seem to be very poor children,” said Lucy, “ and their 
father and mother are dead. They both died at sea.” 

“ Then perhaps they died of cholera,” said their mother, looking 
up suddenly, and appearing alarmed. “ They may have died of 
. cholera, or else of small-pox. They often have cholera or else 
small-pox on board those ships. Don’t you go near them again. 
Go and shut the door, and put down the window, and have nothing 
more to do with them ; or, stop, I will go and send them away.” 

So saying, the woman went to the door, and, calling out to Carl 
and Rosa, she told them to go away. 

“Children,” said she, “go away.” 

Carl was thunderstruck. He could not imagine what this sud- 
den change in the feelings of the household toward him could mean. 

“ Go away,” repeated the woman — “go away directly.” 

“ Come, Rosa,” said Carl, “we had better go.” 

So they both rose from their seats, and, taking the remainder 
of the biscuit in their hands, they went down into the road and 
walked away. 

There are some persons whose charity to the poor and willing- 
ness to relieve those who are in distress seems very fair and prom- 


AMERICA. 


83 


The children come to another house. A seat by the road side. 

ising so long as the exercise of them is perfectly easy and safe, 
but fail immediately when there is any sacrifice to make or danger 
to incur. Lucy’s mother was one of these. 

The children walked on. 

“ Never mind,” said Carl ; “we had a chance to eat a part of 
our biscuit, and we had a good drink of water.” 

“ So we did,” said Rosa. 

“ And now we can eat the rest of our breakfast walking along 
the road,” continued Carl. 

So they went on. 

“ I wish I had a flageolet,” said Carl. “ I might play upon it, 
and make Jocko dance to amuse the children here in America, and 
so we could get some money, perhaps.” 

“ I wish you had one,” said Rosa. 

At length they came to another house. There was a little gar- 
den by the side of it, with a path leading from the door of the house 
across a green yard to a garden gate. There were one or two boys 
just going through the gate carrying a little ship which they had 
been rigging, and were now going to sail in a pond at the foot of 
the garden. 

On the opposite side of the road, near where Carl and Rosa 
were, there lay a large log, which had once been the mast of a ves- 
sel. The log lay in a convenient place to make a good seat. As 
soon as Carl saw it, he proposed to Rosa that they should sit 
down upon it and rest. 

“Yes,” said Rosa, “ I should like to sit down, for I am tired ; be- 
sides, we can see what these boys are going to do with their vessel.” 


84 


AMERICA. 


The boys. 


Is Jocko a cat or a dog? 


Trueman. 


One of the boys at the garden gate, happening at this moment 
to look that way, caught sight of Carl and Rosa and the monkey. 

“ Hi-yi !” exclaimed he, with great surprise. “ What has that 
boy got down on the old mast ?” 

The other boys who were with him looked eagerly in that direc- 
tion, but they could not decide what animal it was. 

“It is a dog,” said one, “all dressed up.” 

“ It is a cat,” said another. 

“Let us go down and see,” said a third. 

So the boys all went down toward the road, carrying their ves- 
sel with them, and looking eagerly at Jocko all the way. 

When they reached the road they stopped on the side of it op- 
posite to where Carl and Rosa were sitting, and gazed intently at 
Jocko. 

“What is that you have got there?” asked one of the boys, 
whose name was Trueman. 

“It is a monkey,” said Carl, “and his name is Jocko.” 

“Is he yours ?” said Trueman. 

“He is my father’s,” said Carl. 

“ Where does your father live ?” asked Trueman. 

“He used to live in Italy,” said Carl, “but now we are going 
to America.” 

Just at this moment a cart drawn by oxen was seen coming 
along the road. The man who was driving it was seated on the 
tongue of it, between the oxen and the cart-body. The man look- 
ed earnestly at Carl and Rosa as he went by, but he did not stop. 

After going a few steps farther he came opposite the house. Now 


AMERICA. 


85 


What the man in the cart said to Trueman’s mother. 


it happened that Trueman’s mother had just then come out to find 
her boys for the purpose of telling them it was time to go to school. 
There was a little path which led down from the front door of the 
house to the gate of the front yard, and Trueman’s mother had 
come down there, and, seeing her boys looking so eagerly toward 
the children sitting on the mast, she stopped a moment to look too, 
and there she was standing as the man with his cart was going by. 

“ Mrs. Roundy,” said he, “I think you had better tell your boys 
to give those children with the monkey a wide berth.” 

“ Why so ?” asked the woman. 

“I expect they came from the ship that was wrecked on the 
point last night,” said the man; “and they had the cholera on 
board. The select-men are going to put the passengers all into 
quarantine, I believe ; but, somehow or other, these children man- 
aged to get away — the little vagabonds ! ” 

By this time the cart and the man had got beyond Mrs. Roun- 
dy’s hearing. 

“Boys,” said Mrs. Roundy, calling to Trueman and his broth- 
ers, “come here.” 

The boys immediately obeyed. They had been taught to obey. 

“It is time for you to go to school,” said their mother. 

“Yes ; but, mother,” said Trueman, “here are some poor chil- 
dren with a monkey, and they look very tired and hungry. I 
wish you would let us give them some breakfast.” 

“ I will give them some breakfast,” said Mrs. Roundy ; “ but 
it is time for you to go to school.” 

So the boys went back to the house to put away their vessel, 


86 


AMERICA. 


Mrs. Roundy’ s kindness was not discouraged by her fears. 

and then, taking their books and slates, they set off to go to school. 
Their mother told them they might stop as they passed and look 
at the monkey if they wished, and that they might talk with the 
boy and girl, but that they must not go near them. 

“You must keep on the other side of the road from where they 
are,” said Mrs. Roundy. 

“ Why, mother ?” asked Trueman. 

“ I will tell you why,” said their mother, “ when you come 
home at noon. You may tell the children when you go by that 
I am coming pretty soon to give them some breakfast, and that 
they must wait where they are till I come.” 

There are some persons wdiose disposition to relieve the poor 
and distressed is increased instead of being diminished by the dif- 
ficulties and dangers attending it, and Mrs. Roundy was one of 
these. The fact that these strangers had come from a ship which 
had the cholera on board, and that, perhaps, they had been made 
orphans by it, only rendered her the more desirous to give them a 
good breakfast than she had been before. At the same time, she 
had good sense enough not to expose herself to any unnecessary 
danger, but to take all proper precaution to guard against any pos- 
sible contagion. 

So she went into the house, and then, after the boys had gone 
to school, she came down to the road again, opposite to where Carl 
and Rosa were sitting. Standing there, she accosted Carl, and 
asked him where he came from, and where he was going. Carl 
gave a full and honest account of himself. He told her about 
their coming from Europe in the packet ship, and about the chol- 


AMERICA. 


87 


Carl’s account of the voyage. 


What Mrs. Roundy did. 


era that broke out on board, and the disappearance of his father 
and mother, and of Rosa’s father. 

“I suppose,” said he, mournfully, when he had finished the ac- 
count, “that they are all dead.” 

He then proceeded to relate how the ship was wrecked, and how 
he and Rosa, together with a great many of the passengers, had 
been saved by the tub ; and finally, when Mrs. Roundy asked him 
where he intended to go, and what he intended to do, he said that 
if this was America he was going to try to get to Vermont, in or- 
der to get a place as a farmer’s boy. 

Mrs. Roundy told him that it was America, and that she did not 
think he could do better than to go to Vermont, if he could get 
there, and become a farmer’s boy. 

“ And now,” continued Mrs. Roundy, “lam going to give you 
some breakfast, if you want some, and that is all that I can do for 
you. Are you hungry ?” 

“ We are not very hungry,” said Carl, “ because we have had 
some biscuit to eat.” 

“I will give you a better breakfast than that,” said Mrs. Roun- 
dy. “Wait till I come and call you.” 

So she went back to the house. In about ten minutes the 
children saw her coming out of the end door with a plate in one 
hand and a large mug in the other. But, instead of coming down 
toward the road, she went across the yard to the garden gate, and, 
going in there, she disappeared. 

In a few minutes she came back again, and, calling out to Carl, 
she said, 


88 


AMERICA. 


The breakfast in the garden. 


Jocko’s coffee-cup. 


“ Children, jour breakfast is ready. Go in through the garden 
gate, and turn to the left. Under the trees jou will see a seat 
with your breakfast upon it. After you have eaten it, you can 
come out through the gate and go along. I am sorry that I can 
not do more for you.” 

Mrs. Roundy would have been glad to do something more for 
the children if her husband had been at home to tell her what it 
was proper to do to guard against any danger of contagion ; and, 
in that case, she would have taken them into the house, and kept 
them there, until they were entirely rested from their dangers and 
fatigues. But, in the absence of her husband, she thought it not 
right for her to do any more than to give them a good breakfast 
and send them on their way. 

The children followed the direction that Mrs. Roundy had given 
them, and went into the garden. They found the seat very readily. 
In the plate were some large slices of cold roast beef on one side, 
and on the other four pieces of buttered toast, hot from the fire. 
The mug was quite large, and was filled with coffee, also, hot, and 
already prepared with milk and sugar. 

Both Carl and Rosa were delighted at the sight of this break- 
fast, and they found, when they began to eat it, that they were re- 
ally quite hungry. The coffee, in. particular, was excellent, and 
it refreshed them very much to drink it. They gave Jocko his 
share of it. In order to enable him to drink it conveniently, Carl 
poured it out for him into a clam-shell which Rosa found under 
the seat. The clam-shell made an excellent cup for Jocko to 
drink from. 


AMERICA. 


89 


Carl inquiring the way to Vermont. 

“ Let us keep the shell,” said Carl. “We can carry it with 
us, and then we can let Jocko have another good drink if any 
body should ever give us some coffee again.” 

“ Or any milk,” said Rosa. 

“Yes,” rejoined Carl, “he would like milk as well as coffee, I 
suppose.” 

There would have been really no danger in Mrs. Roundy’s tak- 
ing the children directly into her house, though, as her husband 
was absent, and she did not know certainly but that there might 
be danger, she was right in acting as she did. She was, however, 
very reluctant to let them go away without doing something more 
for them, and when she saw them coming out of the garden gate 
she went to the door to bid them good-by. 

“ Did you have enough breakfast, children ?” said she. 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Carl, “and here are the plate and the 
mug.” 

“You may put them down there on that block by the gate,” 
said Mrs. Roundy, “ and I will come and get them by-and-by. I 
wish I could do something more for you.” 

“No, ma’am, we don’t want any thing more,” said Carl, “ex- 
cept to have you tell us the way to Vermont.” 

“ It is a very long way to Vermont,” said Mrs. Roundy, “but 
perhaps some of the conductors will let you ride in the cars when 
you come to the rail-road. You must keep directly on in the way 
you are going, and inquire of the people that you meet from time 
to time. Good-bv.” 


90 


AMERICA. 


Carl’s thanks. Pleasing prospects. Jocko. 

“ Good-by, ma’am,” said Carl and Rosa, both speaking togeth- 
er. Carl added also, “ And we are very much obliged to you for 
our good breakfast.” 

So the children walked on. 

“ She was very kind to us,” said Rosa, as soon as Mrs. Roundy 
had gone in and shut the door. “ If every body will be as kind 
as she is, we shall do very well.” 

“We don’t need that every body should be so kind,” said Carl. 
“ If we find only two persons every day, it will be enough.” 

“Yes,” said Rosa, “it will.” 

When the children reached the road they turned in the direc- 
tion toward Vermont, and walked away much pleased with their 
situation and prospects. 

Jocko, of course, went with them. He seemed very well satis- 
fied with Mrs. Roundy’s hospitality. He rode upon Carl’s arm, 
listening to the children’s conversation, and watching the scenery 
with great interest. 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


91 


How Carl learned to play the flageolet. 


Approaching a town. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE FLAGEOLET. 

The flageolet is a very easy instrument 
to play, and that was the reason why Carl’s 
father had procured one for him, and had 
taught him to play some tunes upon it 
when he was traveling in France and En- 
gland. Carl had learned four tunes, and 
he used to like very much to play them 
for Jocko to dance by, to amuse the chil- 
dren who were looking on. He used to 
do this at times when his father was sick 
or was otherwise engaged, and several 
times he obtained a number of pieces of money from the children 
that listened to him. He wished very much that he had his flage- 
olet now, but he thought there was no possible way of getting it. 

It was now about ten o’clock in the morning, and, as the day 
was very pleasant and the children had been much refreshed by 
their breakfast, they walked along at a good pace for two or three 
hours. At length they began to draw near to a town. It was 
quite a large town, and a very pretty looking one. 

“ What a pretty town !” said Carl. 

“ Perhaps,” said Rosa, “ you will get some money in it by let- 
ting the children see Jocko.” 



THE FLAGEOLET. 


92 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Carl and Rosa in the streets of the town. The toy shop. 

“I could, perhaps,” said Carl, “ if I only had something to make 
music for him to dance by. They like to see him dance better 
than any thing else.” 

They soon came to the entrance to the town, and as they passed 
along the street every body turned to look at them. They were 
very pretty children, and, as they were dressed very neatly in some- 
what of a foreign fashion, they looked quite picturesque as they 
walked along together. But what chiefly attracted the attention of 
the people was Jocko, who sat perched upon Carl’s shoulder, and 
held himself in place by passing his arm over Carl’s head. 

As the children passed on, they stopped now and then to look 
into the windows and stores along the line of the street. There 
were a great many things displayed at these windows which Carl 
had never seen before and did not know. Other things he knew 
very well. There was one window where there were pictures to 
be seen, and there they stopped for some time. At a little dis- 
tance beyond this there was a toy shop. 

“Ah!” said Carl, “ here are some toys and playthings. They 
are just the kind I have seen in Germany and Switzerland.” 

This was very true. Indeed, most of the toys which are used 
by the children in America are made in Germany, and are import- 
ed into this country in ships across the Atlantic Ocean. It seems 
a great way to bring a doll, or a Noah’s ark, or a little wooden 
cart for children to play with, but so it is. Almost all such things 
come from Germany and Holland, packed in casks or great boxes, 
and then are unpacked and sold when they arrive to amuse the 
American children. 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


93 


Carl thinks of making a purchase. 


Rosa’s money. 


While Rosa was still looking at the toys, Carl went on to see 
the next window, and immediately exclaimed, 

“Ah! Rosa, here is a music store. I am very glad. Now I 
can get a flageolet. I thought there must be a music store in 
America. Now I can buy a flageolet.” 

“ Have you got any money?” asked Rosa. 

“ Yes,” said Carl, “ I have got plenty of money in my money- 
belt ; and I am sure my father would think it would be a good 
plan for me to buy a flageolet with some of it, only I don’t know 
how I can get it out.” 

“ Why not ?” asked Rosa. 

“ Why, you see,” said Carl, “ I don’t like to take off the money- 
belt here in the street. Father said that I must not let any body 
know that I had a belt.” 

After pausing a moment to consider what it was best to do in 
this emergency, Carl happened to think of the little bag of gold 
which he had belonging to Rosa. He put his hand in his pocket 
and took it out. 

“ Look here !” said he. 

“What is it?” asked Rosa. 

“ Money,” replied Carl. “ It belongs to you.” 

“To me ?” said Rosa, looking very much surprised. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “it belongs to you.” Carl then related to 
Rosa the history of this little bag. He told her how her father 
had- given it to his father to be taken care of, and how his father 
had finally given it to Carl himself. 

“Iam only keeping it for you,” said he. 


94 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Carl and Rosa take out a sovereign. 


The shop-keeper. 


“ Is the bag any easier to open than the belt ?” asked Rosa. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “a great deal easier.” 

“ Then you had better open the bag,” said Rosa, “ and get some 
of the money that is there, if there is enough.” 

“ Ah ! yes,” said Carl, “ there is a great deal more than enough. 
It is full of sovereigns.” 

The sovereign is an English coin. It generally passes in Amer- 
ica for four dollars and eighty-four cents. 

So Carl and Rosa turned into a little alley that opened upon the 
street, and there, standing close together, so that nobody could see 
them, they opened the bag and took out one of the gold pieces. 
They then tied the bag up again as tight as before. 

“Now,” said Carl, “we will go in and buy a flageolet.” 

So they went into the store. A man came behind the counter 
to see what they wanted. 

“Have you got any flageolets to sell?” asked Carl. 

For a moment the man did not answer. His attention was 
wholly taken up by Jocko, who sat upon Carl’s shoulder, and was 
looking about the shop with a countenance full of curiosity and 
wonder. 

There were also quite a number of children about the door. 
They had been watching Carl and the monkey, and had followed 
them to the door, and were now waiting and watching there, not 
daring to go in. 

Presently the man so far recovered his thoughts as to say, 

“ A flageolet ? What do you want of a flageolet ?” 

“To make music for Jocko to dance by,” said Carl. 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


95 


Jocko’s performance in the toy shop. 

“Is your monkey named Jocko?” asked the man. 

“ Yes,” said Carl. 

“And can he dance?” asked the man. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “if there is any way to make music for 
him.” 

“ And can you play on the flageolet ?” asked the man. 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl, “ I can play a few tunes.” 

The man then opened a drawer under the counter, and took out 
a flageolet, which he handed to Carl, saying, 

“ Then let us see your monkey dance.” 

“ Take off your hat, and thank the gentleman,” said Carl, ad- 
dressing Jocko. 

Jocko immediately took off his hat and made a how, and then 
instantly put it on again, and looked eagerly, first at the man and 
then at Carl, as if to see if there was any thing more for him to 
do. He also, at the same instant, leaped off from Carl’s shoulder 
to the counter. 

“ Down !” said Carl — “ down to the floor !” 

So Jocko jumped down to the floor. Here all the children 
at the door began to caper about with delight, and clapped their 
hands. 

Carl gave the end of Jocko’s chain to Eosa, that she might 
hold it while Jocko danced, and then, taking the flageolet, he com- 
menced playing a tune. Jocko immediately began to waltz about 
the floor in a very amusing manner. The music-seller laughed 
aloud. 

After playing a few minutes, Carl stopped when he came to the 


96 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Jocko saluting the company. Paying for the flageolet. Change. 


end of his tune, and Jocko, of course, immediately stopped danc- 
ing. 

“ Salute the company, Jocko,” said Carl. 

So Jocko took off his hat, and first bowed to the music-seller, 
and then bowed to them. He then clapped his hat upon his head 
again, and leaped upon the counter. 

“Very well,” said the music-seller — “very well indeed.” 

“ And what is the price of the flageolet ?” asked Carl. 

“ Why, the price is two dollars and a half,” said the man, “ but 
you can’t buy it. You have not any money ; at least, you have 
not enough, I suppose.” 

“ Is that enough ?” asked Carl, and as he spoke he took a sov- 
ereign out of his pocket and handed it to the man. 

The man took the gold piece and threw it down upon the count- 
er to hear the ring of it. 

“ Where did you get this money ?” asked the man, eyeing Carl 
sternly. 

“ We brought it over with us,” said Carl. “ Is it enough ?” 

“ Yes, it is more than enough,” said the man. “ The flageolet 
comes to two dollars and fifty cents, and that piece is worth four 
dollars and eighty-four cents. I will give you the change.” 

So saying, the music-seller opened a drawer and took out a two 
dollar bill and some change, all of which he laid upon the counter. 

Carl looked at the paper money suspiciously. 

“ Could not you give me some silver money ?” said he. “ I 
don’t understand such money as that.” 

“Ill see,” said the man. So he opened his drawer again and 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


97 


Carl and Rosa pass through the town. The bridge. 

took out four half dollars. These he gave to Carl instead of the 
bill, which last he put back into the drawer again. 

Carl took the money and put it in his pocket. He had the 
flageolet in his hand. He then said, “ Come, Jocko.” Jocko 
leaped upon his shoulder, and Carl immediately walked out of the 
shop, Rosa following him. 

Rosa expected that Carl would stop in the street immediately 
after leaving the shop where he had bought the flageolet, in order 
to try it, especially as there were a number of children assembled ; 
but Carl did not do so. The excitement of buying the flageolet 
was enough for one occasion. In coming out from the shop, with 
the instrument in his hand and the change in his pocket, he felt 
as if he had performed quite a feat, and, indeed, almost as if he 
had escaped a danger. He wished to rest a little while from this 
performance, and consider his situation before undertaking anoth- 
er. So he walked rapidly along the sidewalk, leading Rosa by 
the hand, and carrying Jocko on his shoulder. The children fol- 
lowed a little while, and then dropped off one by one, and at last 
left them to themselves. 

They soon passed through the town, and came to green fields 
again. 

“Now, Rosa,” said Carl, “the first good place that we come to 
we will sit down and look at our money. I want to see what 
kind of money it is that the man gave me.” 

They did not have to go far to find a good place to sit down. 
The place was under a bridge. It was where quite a large brook 
ran across the road, tumbling over rocks and pebble-stones. 

28 G 


98 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


The children un ler the bridge scrutinizing their money. 


“Ah!” said Carl, “hero is just the place, under this bridge. 
We can find seats on the rooks, and nobody can see us.” 

So Carl turned out of the road into a little path which led down 
to the bank of the stream. Rosa followed him. Under the bank 
they found some large flat stones to sit upon, close to the margin 
of the water. Here Carl took the money which the music-seller 
had given him out of his pocket, and spread it out upon the flat 
stone between him and Rosa. They then began to take up the 
coins one after another, to examine them. 

“This,” said he, taking up one of the half dollars, “must be 
half a crown; but perhaps they have some other name for it in 
this country. I have got four of them. ” 

“And what is this ?” said Rosa, taking up one of the cents. 

“ It must be some kind of a halfpenny,” said Carl. “ You see 
it is copper money, and it is almost as big as a halfpenny.” 

“ I wish we knew what the name of it was,” said Rosa. 

“So do I,” said Carl. 

“ I don’t see how you can pay the money unless you know what 
the name of it is,” said Rosa. 

“ I can tell what the value of it is,” said Carl, “ by seeing how 
big a piece of silver or copper it is. That is the way my father 
did when he came to England. He did not understand the money 
at all, and so, when he asked them what the price of any thing was, 
and they told him, and he did not understand what they said, he 
would take out some money from his pocket and let them show 
him. Then he would observe how much silver there was in 
the money that they showed him, and if it was about as much 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


99 


Jocko in mischief. Stealing a penny. 

as he would have had to pay in France, then he would know 
that it was all right. You see it all depends upon how much 
silver there is in it. The money is only good for the silver there 
is in it.” 

“ Or the gold,” said Eosa. 

“ Yes, the gold, if it is gold money,” said Carl. 

All this time Jocko had been sitting quietly on the flat stone 
looking at the money, and listening apparently with great attention 
to the conversation. But as he was not capable of understanding 
such a discussion as this on the value of money very well, he found 
the conversation rather dull, and so he concluded to vary the en- 
tertainment a little. He accordingly took the opportunity, when 
Carl’s hand was for a moment off the money, to seize one of the 
cents, and instantly, as soon as he had it in his paw, he ran off 
with it up one of the posts of the bridge, and when he reached the 
railing above, he took his seat upon it with the cent in his hand, 
and began looking about on the surrounding scenery with the ut- 
most gravity imaginable. 

“How, Jocko!” exclaimed Eosa, in a piteous and complaining 
tone. 

Carl laughed. “ Never mind,” said he ; “it is only one of the 
copper coins, and it can’t be worth a great deal ; besides, he will 
come back with it presently. He will come whenever I call 
him.” 

Indeed, Eosa had the end of the cord which was fastened to 
Jocko’s chain in her hand, for she had instinctively seized hold 
of it the moment that she saw Jocko spring away. She pulled 


100 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Rosa could not pull Jocko down. Music. Applause. 

upon the cord a little, but Jocko clung firmly to the railing, and 
would not come down. 

“Let him stay there a few minutes,” said Carl. 

So saying, Carl gathered up the remainder of the money and 
put it in his pocket. He then took off his cap, and, holding it 
out, he said, 

“Jocko, bring me the money.” 

Jocko immediately ran down the post and dropped the money 
in Carl’s cap. 

“Now,” said Rosa, “you had better try your flageolet.” 

“ So I will,” said Carl. “ I should like to see if I can play all 
my tunes.” 

Carl accordingly began to play his tunes. He found that he 
had partially forgotten one or two of them, but by practicing them 
two or three times he quite recovered his recollection of them. 

At last, just after he had finished playing one of these tunes, 
his attention, as well as Rosa’s, was attracted by hearing the word 
GOOD pronounced in a distinct voice somewhere above them. 
They looked up, and saw two men’s heads projecting over the rail- 
ing of the bridge. They were the heads of two young men who 
happened to be passing by at that time, and whose attention had 
been attracted by the sound of the music. 

“ Good, my boy,” said one of the men, when Carl looked up ; 
“ you play very well. And can your monkey dance ?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl. 

“ Then, if you will come to the next house, where there 
spme children, I will give you a fourpence ha’penny.” 


are 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


101 


A performance for the children. The four tunes. 

What the man could mean by a fourpence ha’penny Carl could 
not possibly imagine. 

“Let us go,” said Rosa. 

“Yes, we will,” said Carl. 

So they all went up the path again by which they had come 
down, and so joined the men on the bridge. The whole party 
then walked along together toward the house. On the way the 
young men asked Carl a great many questions, and seemed much 
interested in the account he gave of himself. 

When they arrived at the house the young men went in, leav- 
ing Carl and Rosa at the door. In a few minutes they came out 
again, bringing with them three or four children. One of the 
children was an infant. The infant was brought in the arms of 
her sister, who was about thirteen years old. 

“ Salute the company, Jocko,” said Carl. 

At this command Jocko took off his cap and bowed to the com- 
pany, and then clapped it on his head again. He did this with 
such comical motions, and at the same time with such a grave 
and demure face, that all the children were greatly amused. 

Carl then began to play, while Jocko danced. This perform- 
ance amused the children still more than the bqw. After Carl 
had finished one of his tunes they called for another, and so on 
till he had played all four of them. The children still called for 
more. 

“ I don’t know any more,” said Carl. 

“ Then play the same ones over again,” said the children. 

So Carl played his four tunes over again, and by that time 


102 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Minnie brings cake for Jocko. 


What the baby said to Jocko. 


Jocko began to be tired of dancing. The children perceived this, 
and Anne, the oldest one, who had the baby in her arms, said 
they must not make him dance any more. 

“ He is tired,” said she, “ and he ought to have something to 
eat.” Then, looking toward Carl, she asked what he liked to eat. 

“ Oh, he eats almost every thing,” said Carl. 

“ Would he like a little cake?” asked Anne. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “very much indeed.” 

“ Then run in, Minnie,” said Anne, “ and bring him out a seed- 
cake.” 

So Minnie went in, and pretty soon came out again with a lit- 
tle round cake in her hand. All the children wanted to take the 
cake when she brought it, but Minnie said, “No, I am going to 
give it to him myself.” 

Minnie accordingly advanced toward Jocko, though rather tim- 
idly, and reached out the cake to him. Jocko took it at once, 
but, instead of eating it, he began to smell of it in an exceedingly 
impolite way. 

“ You ought to be ashamed, Jocko,” said Eosa ; “just as if the 
young lady would give you any cake that was not good.” 

J ocko soon satisfied himself that the cake was good, and imme- 
diately began to eat it, holding it in his paws while he bit off 
small pieces from the edge of it, just as any child would have 
done. The baby laughed aloud, and pointed its little finger at 
Jocko, saying, “ Coo ! coo !” 

J ocko went on eating the cake, but at the intervals of his bites 
he looked first at the baby and then at the rest of the company 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


103 


The children give Jocko a drink. 


Money earned. 


with such a comical expression of countenance that the children 
jumped and capered about with delight. 

At length, when Jocko had finished the cake, the children 
brought out a little milk in a saucer and gave him a drink. They 
also asked 'Carl and Kosa if they did not wish for something to 
eat, but they said that they were not hungry, as they had had a 
good breakfast an hour or two before. 

The young man who had engaged them to come to the house 
then put his hand in his pocket, and took out a piece of money 
and gave it to Carl. 

“ There,” said he ; “I promised you fourpence ha’penny, and 
there is ten cents.” 

Carl took the money and thanked the young man for it. He 
then ordered Jocko to salute the company, which Jocko did by 
taking off his hat and making a bow to them, and then they went 
away. 

As this was the first money which Carl had earned in Amer- 
ica, he was very proud of it. He did not put it in his pocket, but 
kept it in his hand, intending to stop and examine it as soon as he 
got away from the house. 

“It is about as big as a sixpence,” said Carl, after looking at- 
tentively at the money. 

He meant an English sixpence. Now, as an English sixpence 
is of the value of twelve cents, Carl was tolerably correct in his 
estimate of the quantity of silver in the coin. 

It was not very long that Carl remained in ignorance of the 
names of the coins. He learned them all at a toll-house which 


104 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


Carl and Rosa at the toll-house. The toll-man’s grandmother. 

he and Rosa came to in the course of the forenoon. The toll- 
house was at the end of a bridge. When the children came to it, 
the toll-gatherer came out to ask for the toll. 

“ How much is it ?” said Carl. 

“ Two cents,” said the toll-man ; “ one for each of you.” The 
toll-man then, like every body else that Carl had any thing to do 
with, seemed to forget his business, and to turn his attention whol- 
ly to Jocko. After asking several questions about Jocko, he in- 
vited the children to go into his toll-house. 

“I want you to show the monkey to my old grandmother,” 
said he. 

So the children followed the toll-gatherer into the house. The 
room was very small indeed. There was a single bed in one cor- 
ner, and near by it, by a window, there was an ancient elbow- 
chair, in which s&t an old woman. She was bolstered up in the 
chair as if she was very infirm, but she had some knitting-work 
in her hand, showing that she was not too old to knit, and her 
eyes looked bright and intelligent. 

“ Grandmother,” said the man, “ I have brought in something 
to make you laugh.” 

“Ah!” said she, “what a funny-looking monkey! I remem- 
ber seeing one when I was a child. A sailor brought it home 
from the coast of Africa.” 

The old lady seemed very much amused with the monkey, and 
she laughed heartily to see him dance. After remaining a little 
while Carl said they must go, and he asked again how much the 
toll was. 


THE FLAGEOLET. 


105 


Carl leams the American coins from the toll-man. 


“ The toll is two cents,” said the man, 44 but I shall not charge 
you any thing. I will pay it for you, in return for your having 
amused grandmother so much with the monkey.” 

44 How much is two cents ?” asked Carl. 

44 My stars !” exclaimed the woman, 44 don’t the children know 
how much two cents is ? They must just be come from foreign 
parts.” 

44 Yes,” replied Carl, 44 we have.” 

So saying, he took his silver and his copper money from his 
pocket, and asked the toll-man if any of those were cents. 

The toll-man showed him the cents, and also told him the 
names of the other pieces of money. He explained to him that 
the large silver coins were half dollars — not half crowns, as Carl 
had supposed. 

After having gained this information, Carl thanked the toll- 
gatherer for his kindness in letting him go over the bridge with- 
out paying toll, and then ordered Jocko to salute the lady, which 
he did with great gravity. They all then left the toll-house, and, 
proceeding over the bridge, they went on their way. 


106 


THE TRAIN. 


Bidding the old lady good-by. Earnings. 


The plan of buying the farm. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE TRAIN. 

The toll-house was a very pretty one, 
and the children stopped a moment to look 
back at it as they went over the bridge. 
They saw the old lady sitting at the win- 
dow, and she nodded to them when they 
looked back to bid them good-by once 
more. 

“Rosa,” said Carl, “ we have got along 
very well. We have earned something 
twice with J ocko. First we earned the ten 
cents, and now we have earned two cents.” 

“Yes,” said Rosa, “ so we have.” 

“Perhaps we can earn enough,” continued Carl, “to pay our 
expenses on the journey all the way to Vermont, and so keep the 
whole of our gold money to help buy our farm.” 

“Yes, said Rosa; “and you may have all my gold money.” 

It is true that Carl had no definite plan of buying a farm in 
Vermont for himself and Rosa alone, but the recollection of his 
father s desire to buy a farm still lingered in his mind and gave 
direction to his thoughts ; besides, although for the present he felt 
himself entirely separated from his father and mother, he did not 
realize that they were dead, and so he still continued in some 



THE TOLL-HOUSE. 


THE TKAIN. 


107 


Why Jocko’s shell could not be used as a contribution-box. 


sense to include them in the hopes and anticipations which he 
formed for the future. 

“We will earn all the money we can,” said Carl. “ I will play 
the flageolet and make Jocko dance, and you shall go round to the 
spectators and take the money which they give you.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosa, “ if you will lend me your cap to take it in.” 

On further reflection, the children thought that the shell which 
they had taken from Mrs. Roundy’s garden to serve as a cup for 
Jocko to drink out of would do instead of a cap to be used for a 
contribution-box, and for a day or two afterward they tried the 
plan of so using it. But they found that this plan did not suc- 
ceed very well, for Jocko, after having had a few good drinks of 
coffee and of milk out of the shell, came to associate so strongly 
with the sight of it the idea of something good for himself, that 
whenever Rosa produced it for the purpose of collecting money, 
he would instantly stop dancing and run for a drink, and this en- 
tirely interrupted the performance. 

However, in a few days Rosa had a very nice thing to collect 
her money in. It was a small tambourine, which Carl thought it 
best to buy. He bought it in a toy shop. With this tambourine 
Rosa could keep time by beating upon it, while Carl played and 
Jocko danced, and then, after the performance was ended, she car- 
ried it round to collect the money in it. 

Things went on prosperously in this way for several days. The 
children earned a good deal of money in the towns and villages 
that they passed through, and at night they stopped at small tav- 
erns, where they could have a lodging for a small sum. Once 


108 


THE TRAIN. 


Carl and Kosa at the tavern. Sleeping in the bam. 

the tavern-keeper would not let Carl sleep in the house under pre- 
tense that he had not room for him. This was only an excuse, 
however. The real reason was, he was afraid that he would steal 
something, and go off with it in the morning before the family were 
up. So they told him that they would give Rosa a place in the 
house, but that he himself must sleep in the barn on the hay. 

Carl accordingly slept in the barn. He had a very good time 
there, only he was awakened once in the night by two horses in 
the stalls below, that got into a quarrel and disturbed the whole 
stable by biting each other, and neighing and kicking. 

Of course, the children traveled very slowly, and at one time 
they stopped several days in a large town. There was a rail- 
road passing through this town, and Carl asked one of the work- 
men if that rail-road led to Vermont. But he said no, it led to 
Boston. 

Carl learned a new tune for his flageolet after he had been trav- 
eling a few days. The way in which he learned it was this. He 
was passing along through the country with Rosa and Jocko, when 
at length, not far from a large village, he came to a place where 
there was a very pretty house, ornamented with green blinds and 
a piazza, which stood back a little way from the road. The house 
was almost surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and it had a pret- 
ty yard by the side of it. On one side was a great gate which 
opened to a broad graveled road that led up to the house. This 
gate was open, and just as the children were passing by, two boys 
playing horses came running down to the gate. 

One of the boys was horse and the other was driver. As soon 


THE TRAIN. 


109 


The boys playing horses. 


A voice from the house. 


as they saw Carl and the monkey, the driver reined up his horse, 
and exclaimed, with astonishment, 

“ Hi-yo ! what’s coming now ? Here’s a part of a menagerie. 
Look, Johnnie !” 

Johnnie was the youngest boy. He was the horse. 

“ What is that you are carrying ?” said John, addressing Carl. 

“It is a monkey,” said Carl. 

“ What do you do with him ?” asked the oldest boy. 

“He dances, ’’replied Carl, “when I play to him on my flageolet.” 

“ Let’s see him danee,” said Johnnie. 

“Well,” said Carl, “if you wish to see him you can.” 

So they stopped, and Jocko jumped down from Carl’s shoulder. 
Carl took the parts of the flageolet out of his pocket, and, after 
putting them together, began to play a tune. Rosa beat time upon 
her tambourine. Jocko, when the word of command was given 
him, began to dance. The two boys were exceedingly amused. 

As soon as the first tune was finished and Jocko stopped danc- 
ing, Carl and Rosa heard a voice from the house— which sounded 
like that of a young lady — calling out 

“Theodore!” 

“ What ?” said Theodore, calling out in reply. Theodore was 
the oldest of the two boys. 

The foliage of the trees and shrubbery was so dense that the 
children could not see where the voice came from. 

“ What is that music?” asked the voice. 

“It is a boy with a monkey,” said Theodore, calling out to the 
invisible speaker. 


110 


THE TKAIN. 


Carl and Rosa with Jocko upon the piazza. 


Marianne’s kind offer. 


“Bring him up here,” said the voice. 

“ Marianne wants you to go up there,” said Theodore, address- 
ing Carl and Bosa. “Will you go?” 

“Yes,” said Carl, “we have no objection.” 

So they all went through a great gate, and up the gravel road 
that led to the house. Pretty soon they came in sight of a win- 
dow opening out upon a pretty piazza, with a young lady stand- 
ing in it and looking out. She was a very pleasant-looking girl, 
and appeared to be about fourteen years old. 

She seemed to be very much interested in Jocko, and, after see- 
ing him walk about on the piazza a few minutes, she wished to see 
him dance. So Carl and Bosa began to play, and Jocko com- 
menced his performance. Marianne, as was usual in such cases, 
asked for another tune, and another, until Carl had played all his 
four, and then he said that he did not know any more. 

“Why don’t you learn some more?” she asked. 

“ Why, I have not got any body to teach me,” said Carl. 

“ I will teach you a tune,” said Marianne. “ Do you think you 
could learn one if I should play it to you upon the piano ?” 

“Is it a hard tune?” asked Carl. 

“No,” said Marianne ; “I will choose one for you that is easy.” 

“Well,” said Carl, “I should like to try very much.” 

“ Then come up on the piazza and listen, while I go to the piano 
and play,” replied Marianne. 

“ Yes,” said Carl ; “ only I will first let Bosa and Jocko go 
out in the yard, where they can run about by themselves, and 
then they will not disturb me.” 


THE TRAIN. 


Ill 


How Marianne taught Carl a new tune. 


“That’s right,” said Johnnie; “we want to see them run 
about.” 

So Rosa went away with Jocko and the two boys, and she 
amused the boys very much by letting them see how nimbly Jocko 
could climb the trees and run along the fences. When they were 
gone Carl took his station by the window, to listen to the new 
tune that Marianne was going to play him. 

Marianne played the tune phrase by phrase, and Carl followed 
her on the flageolet. Of course, he had to play solely by his ear, 
but he succeeded in doing this, and in a short time he learned to 
play the tune quite well. He played it several times by himself, 
Marianne listening to him to correct his mistakes. When he made 
a mistake, she would show him what it was by playing that part 
right on the piano. In about fifteen minutes he had learned to 
play the tune perfectly. 

“Now you must be careful and not forget it,” said Marianne. 

“ Yes,” said Carl, “ I will. I will stop and play it several times 
a day as I go along the road.” 

Carl then went out into the yard to find Jocko, and Marianne 
came round to the door to see him climb. When she came to the 
door, Rosa was holding up her arm as high as she could, so as to 
let Jocko get up to the full length of his cord and chain. 

“ I suppose he could climb a great deal higher,” said Marianne, 
“if you would let go of the fastening.” 

“Yes,” said Carl, “he would go up to the tops of the highest 
trees.” 

“Let go of the string, and let him try it,” said Johnnie. 


112 


THE TRAIN. 


The reason why Jocko could not have more liberty. 


“I suppose that that would not be safe,” said Marianne. 

“No,” said Carl. “He likes to climb about so well that he 
might run off among the trees so far as to give me a great deal of 
trouble to get him back again.” 

“Won’t he obey you when you call him back?” asked Mari- 
anne. 

“Not certainly,” said Carl. “I have to keep hold of the 
string, and give his collar a little pull, or else he is not sure to 
obey me.” 

“It is a pity that he will not obey you,” said Johnnie. 

“ Yes,” said Carl. “ It would be a great deal better for him if 
he would. I could give him a great deal more liberty if I could 
only depend upon his obeying me.” 

“ I wish you had a longer string,” said Johnnie. 

“ I wish I had,” said Carl. 

“I could go and get my kite-string,” said Theodore. 

“ That will do very well,” said Carl. 

So Theodore ran off to get his kite-string. In a few minutes 
he returned, bringing it with him in his hand. Carl tied one end 
of the string to the end of Jocko’s cord, and then said, 

“Now, Jockoj you may climb as high as you will.” 

Jocko seemed very much pleased with this apparent liberty, 
and away he went up the trees as nimbly as a squirrel. He 
would run along the limbs, leaping from branch to branch, catch- 
ing sometimes by so slender a twig that he would swing to and 
fro some time before he got up to where his footing was secure. 
Sometimes he would hang by a foot, and sometimes by a hand, 


THE TRAIN. 


113 


Jocko in the tree-top. Reluctant obedience. 

and lie would turn somersets over and over in the most comical 
manner imaginable.* 

After continuing the performance as long as was desirable, Carl 
gently pulled the cord, and called out, 

“ Come down, Jocko ! Come down !” 

Jocko was very reluctant to come down. Monkeys are made 
to live on trees, and Jocko felt more at home among the lofty 
branches than he had done any where before since he had been in 
America. He, however, felt the pull of the collar about his neck, 
and knew that he must obey. So he began to come down, but 
he came as slowly as he could, and took all possible round- 
about ways in descending from branch to branch. Where there 
was a perfectly good way to walk straight along, he would not 
walk in it, but would go hopping from one limb to another, across 
the most dangerous places that he could find ; and whenever Carl 
slackened the string in the least, he would take advantage of it to 
leap up again a little way. He, however, at last reached the 
ground, and then Carl untied the end of the kite-string from the cord, 
and Jocko was brought back again to his usual close confinement. 

“Now,” said Theodore, “let us give him something to eat and 
drink, to pay him for climbing. What does he like ?” 

“ He likes milk to drink,” said Carl, “ but he does not need 
any pay for climbing. He likes climbing better than any thing 
else he can possibly do.” 

“ We’ll pay him, nevertheless,” said Marianne. “ Wait here a 
moment, and I will go and get some milk.” 

* See Frontispiece. 

H 


28 


114 


THE TRAIN. 


Finding Jocko after his climb. Marianne’s promise. 


The whistle. 


So Marianne went into the house and brought out a little milk 
in a mug. While she was gone Rosa had taken out the shell, so 
as to have it all ready. Marianne poured the milk into the shell, 
and then Jocko lapped it up. The children were all much amused 
to see him do it, and especially to observe the mock solemnity of 
his countenance as he looked about upon the spectators while he 
continued his drinking. 

“And now,” said Carl, when Jocko had drunk up all the milk, 
“we will go; and I am very much obliged to you,” he added, 
turning to Marianne, “ for teaching me a new tune.” 

“ Play it once before you go,” said Marianne, “so as to be sure 
that you remember it.” 

So Carl put the parts of the flageolet together, and played the 
tune while Theodore was winding up the kite-twine. Johnnie 
proposed that Jocko should dance again, but Marianne said that 
they ought not to make him dance any more. “He must be 
tired,” said she, “ after all his climbing.” 

So Jocko lay down on the grass to rest while Carl rehearsed 
the new tune. He played it perfectly right. 

“You play it as well as I can,” said Marianne. “Now take 
good care not to forget it, and if you come this way again, and 
will stop here, I will teach you another.” 

In the afternoon of the same day when this occurrence took 
place, Carl, in coming to the top of a hill, as he was walking along 
the road, heard the sound of a locomotive whistle. 

“ Hark !” said Carl ; “I hear a loud whistle.” 

“So do I,” said Rosa. 


THE TRAIN. 


115 


Carl and Rosa watching the train of cars in the valley. 

“ Do you know what that is a sign of?” asked Carl. 

“ It is a sign that we are coming to a rail-road,” said Rosa. 

“Yes,” said Carl; “and perhaps it is a rail-road leading to 
Vermont.” 

As he said this, Carl led the way to a high rock which he saw 
by the road side, and after he had helped Rosa to the top of it he 
climbed up himself, and then they both looked toward the valley. 
They now saw a white cloud of vapor running rapidly along among 
the trees on the other side of the valley. Presently the whistle 
sounded again, and soon afterward a loud rumbling sound sud- 
denly burst upon their hearing, and, after continuing a few min- 
utes, as suddenly ceased. 

“ The train has just gone over a bridge,” said Carl. 

“ How do you know that,” asked Rosa. 

“ Because that is the sound that the train always makes,” re- 
plied Carl, “ when it is going over a bridge.” 

“Perhaps that rail-road leads to Vermont,” suggested Rosa. 

“ Perhaps it does,” said Carl ; “we will go to it and see.” 

So they returned to the road and continued their journey. They 
went down into the valley, and presently they came to a stream. 
There was a bridge across the stream at the place where the road 
crossed it. 

“ Is this the bridge that the train went over when it made a 
noise ?” asked Rosa. 

“ No,” replied Carl, “ this is not a rail-road bridge. This is a 
common bridge. Don’t you see that there are not any rails upon 
it?” 


116 


THE TRAIN. 


How Carl knew the direction of Vermont. Another train of cars. 

The children went over the bridge, and, after continuing their 
way for some little time longer, they came to the rail-road. 

“ Here it is,” said Rosa. “ Now how shall we find whether it 
goes to Vermont or not?” 

“We must walk along till we come to a station,” said Carl. 

So they walked on. There was a pathway along the side of the 
rail-road, where it was very convenient for them to go. They 
turned into this path, taking the direction which Carl supposed 
would lead to Vermont. 

“ I don’t see how you know the way to go,” said Rosa. 

“ I go toward the north,” said Carl. “ Don’t you remember 
that the man I inquired of a good many days ago told me that 
Vermont was toward the north, and that I must always go in that 
direction ?” 

“Yes,” said Rosa; “but how do you know which way the 
north is ?” 

“ I know by the sun,” said Carl. “To go to the north, in the 
morning we must have the sun on our right hand ; at noon we 
must have it behind us ; and in the afternoon on our left.” 

Carl had learned this from one of the sailors at sea. 

“ You see,” continued Carl, “ it is now afternoon, and, of course, 
I must have the sun on my left hand, and I have to turn this way 
in order to bring it on my left hand.” 

“ I think it is very puzzling,” said Rosa. 

After walking along the track for about half an hour, the chil- 
dren heard a whistling behind them. 

“Ah I” said Carl, “here is another train coming.” 


THE TRAIN. 


117 


Carl and Rosa counting up their earnings. 


The station. 


In a few minutes the train came up. They stood out of the 
way when it came, and it ran by them at great speed, and with a 
noise like thunder. 

“I wonder if it is going to Vermont,” said Rosa. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Carl ; “ if it is, I wish we were in it.” 

“ Have we got money enough to pay?” said Rosa. 

“We have got enough to pay for a part of the way,” replied 
Carl. “I will look at our money, and see how much we have got.” 

So Carl sat down on the grass, Rosa by his side, and set him- 
self to work to count their money. By their money they meant 
the silver and copper money which they had earned by their ex- 
hibition of Jocko along the road. The gold money in the belt and 
in the purse they considered in some sense sacred, and, with the 
exception of the single sovereign which they had taken for the pur- 
chase of a flageolet, they had not meddled with it at all. 

They found, on counting their money, that they had about three 
dollars and a half, with a few cents over. After counting it, Carl 
put it back into his pocket, and then they all went on again. 

In about half an hour more they came to a station. It was near 
a small and pleasant village. They were pretty tired when they 
reached the station, and so they sat down upon the edge of the 
platform to rest. 

Pretty soon a man came out of a door which led into the place 
where passengers bought their tickets, and, seeing the children sit- 
ting on the platform, he felt curious to know who they were, and 
where they were going. 

“ Is that your monkey ?” said he to Carl. 


118 


THE TRAIN. 


Jocko’s comical salutation. Carl’s conversation at the ticket-office. 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl. 

The monkey took off his hat and made a low bow to the gentle- 
man. He then immediately put his hat on his head again, and 
looked eagerly about, first at the man and then at Carl, with an 
anxious expression of countenance, as if he did not know whether 
what he had done was to be considered a good deed or a piece of 
mischief. 

The station-man evidently considered it a good deed, for he 
laughed outright, and said, “Well done!” 

“Are you traveling?” asked the man. 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl. 

“And which way are you going?” said the man. 

“ We are going to Vermont,” said Carl. “ Does this rail-road 
lead that way ?” 

“Yes,” said the man, “ it leads toward Vermont. What part 
of Vermont do you want to go to ?” 

“I don’t know, sir, exactly, ’’replied Carl. “ I don’t know much 
about the different parts of Vermont. I want to go to some part 
where I can get a place as a farmer’s boy.” 

“As a farmer’s boy ?” repeated the man, much surprised. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Carl. 

“And who is this girl?” asked the man. 

“ She is my sister,” replied Carl. 

The man’s curiosity was now fully aroused, and he proceeded 
to question Carl particularly about his history. Carl told him 
about the voyage, and the sickness and disappearance of his father 
and mother, and the shipwreck. He also gave him a brief account 


THE TRAIN. 


119 


The station-master’s invitation. The passing train. 

of the adventures which he and Rosa had met with since they land- 
ed, and of the money which they had received for the exhibition* 
of Jocko. He told the man that they had earned three dollars 
and a half, and that they wished to spend that in paying their fare 
toward Vermont as far as it would go. 

“And how did you know any thing about Vermont ?” asked the 
man. 

“A lady that was on board the ship told me about it,” said Carl. 

The man was silent a few minutes after hearing this story, and 
seemed to be considering what to do. After a short interval, dur- 
ing which he walked up and down the platform by himself, he 
came back to the children, and said to Carl, 

“ I’ll help you about getting to Vermont, my boy, but you can’t 
go to-night. You must go home with me, and stay to-night at my 
house, and to-morrow morning you shall go on.” 

The man said, moreover, that the children must wait at the sta- 
tion about half an hour, until the next train had come and gone, 
and that then he would show them the way to his home. 

“ And when you get there,” said he, “ my wife will give you 
some supper — Jocko and all.” 

So they waited half an hour, and at length the train came in. 
It remained only a few minutes at the station, and then went on 
again. Some passengers got out and others got in. The station- 
man assisted them, and he supplied those who were going in the 
train with tickets. After the train had gone and the station had 
become quiet again, he came to the children, and said that he was 
now ready to show them the way to his house. 


120 


THE TRAIN. 


The station-master’s residence. 


The children made welcome. 


So he walked along, and they followed him. In a short time 
they came to a small house that stood near the entrance of the 
village. There was a very pretty garden by the side of it, and 
the entrance to the house was by a path which led through this 
garden. There was a small gate to go through from the road. 
The man opened this gate, and held it open while the children 
went in. 

Then he led the way along this path till he came to the front 
door of the house ; but, instead, of going in at the front door, he 
went on to a door a little farther back, which seemed to lead to 
the kitchen. There was a fire in the fire-place of the kitchen, but 
the door and the window were open, as it was a pleasant summer’s 
day. There was a young woman at the door when the children 
came up to it, and she looked toward them with an expression of 
mingled kindness and curiosity. 

“ Mary,” said the man, “ I have brought you some company.” 

Mary moved back to make room for the children to come in, 
and welcomed them as they entered with a smile. Her husband 
explained to her the circumstances in which the children were 
placed, and asked her if she could give them some supper and 
keep them all night. She said she rather thought she could. She 
spoke the words, however, in a tone and manner that indicated 
that it would give her the greatest pleasure to do what her hus- 
band had proposed. 

The children spent the night at the house, and were taken care 
of in the best possible manner. 


xi GOOD LODGING. 


121 


A true Christian. 


Mary’s principle of doing good. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A GOOD LODGING. 

Mary, the station-master’s wife, was a 
true Christian. A true Christian is one 
who, among other characteristics, lives to 
do good. The work of doing good, accord- 
ing to the ideas of many people, consists 
in giving away money. But this was not 
Mary’s notion. It was her principle to 
use, in all her benevolent efforts, as little 
money as possible. This was partly be- 
cause she had but little money to spare, 
but chiefly because she had the good sense 
to perceive that, to do good with money, or at least by giving 
away money, is an exceedingly difficult and delicate operation, and 
she had very little confidence in being able to manage it. 

She was right in this. It is an exceedingly difficult thing to 
do good with money ; or, rather, it is exceedingly difficult to do 
good in this way without, at the same time, indirectly doing harm 
which shall more than counterbalance the good. Accordingly, for 
both these reasons, Mary endeavored, in all her benevolent opera- 
tions, to use as little money as possible. 

The way in which the absolute giving away of money to those 
who are in need does harm, is, it tends to make them lose their 



122 


A GOOD LODGING. 


Doing good with money is not always the best way. 

self-respect, and causes them to become more and more willing to 
live on charity. They live on the charity of their first benefac- 
tress as long as she continues to supply them, and then, when, on 
account of her death, or her removal to another place, or for any 
other cause, these supplies fail, they become common beggars. If 
they do not directly beg, they live by representing their wants and 
their distress here and there among those who are able to give 
them what they require, in hopes of inducing them to give, and so 
they lead idle and dependent lives, always on the brink of want 
and misery. 

There are various other evils that flow indirectly from the in- 
judicious giving of money in charity which I have not time here 
fully to describe. Mary had learned them by observing them with 
her own eyes. She lived among poor people, and she could see 
very clearly the ill effects which were sometimes produced by the 
gifts of money bestowed upon them by the rich, and this was an 
additional reason why she determined as much as possible to avoid 
them. 

Still her heart was bent on doing good. She particularly loved 
children, but she had none of her own — that is, she had none when 
Carl and Rosa came to her house. She had had two, and while 
they lived she loved them very dearly. When they died, she 
was at first overwhelmed with sorrow, but after a time she arose 
and said, 

“ God has taken my dear children away from me. He has good 
reasons for it, I know, and I will be satisfied. I will show that I 
am satisfied by seeing how happy I can be with the blessings that 


A GOOD LODGING. 


123 


Conversation between Mary and the children. 


he has left me, and how much good I can do to all the other chil- 
dren that I see and know.” 

So Mary became the friend and helper of all the children in the 
neighborhood. They all learned to love her, and she, in her turn, 
loved them. So she lived a very happy life. Almost every body 
is happy that lives to love and be loved in return. 

Mary was, of course, greatly pleased when her husband came 
home and brought Carl and Rosa. Her husband, in fact, knew 
that she would be pleased. 

As soon as her husband had gone away, she gave the children 
a seat near a pleasant window, and then asked them if they were 
very hungry. 

Carl said that they were not particularly so. 

“ Because,” said Mary, “ if you are, I will give you something 
to eat now. If not, we will wait till my husband comes back.” 

“ We would rather wait till he comes back,” said Carl. 

Mary then began to ask the children questions about themselves 
and their history. 

“ I suppose you are traveling about the country to show your 
monkey,” said she. 

“ Not exactly that,” said Carl. “ We are trying to get to Ver- 
mont. I want to go upon a farm. A lady told me there were 
farms in Vermont.” 

This reply excited Mary’s curiosity more than ever, and she 
proceeded to question the children more particularly in regard to 
the details of their history. They gave her a full account of them- 
selves. They told her about their setting out from Europe with 


124 


A GOOD LODGING. 


Carl and Rosa had no baggage to carry. 

their parents in the packet ship, and about their voyage across the 
Atlantic, and the sickness which broke out on board. They re- 
lated to her, moreover, the manner in which Carl’s father and 
mother, and Rosa’s father, had been taken away from them, and 
expressed their fears that they had all died and been buried at 
sea. Finally, they gave an account of their wreck and their es- 
cape to the shore, and then related the adventures that they had 
met with since they landed. 

“ And now,” said Mary, “ what you want is to get to Vermont, 
and see if you can find a place on a farm ? Well, I think that is 
a very good plan, and I will help you on with it all in my power.” 

It was a general rule with Mary not to form plans herself for 
the persons that she was going to help, but to aid them in execut- 
ing the plans which they had formed, provided that she saw no 
objection to them. 

“ They shall stay here to-night,” said Mary to herself, “ and I 
will be a mother to them, and to-morrow morning they shall pro- 
ceed on their journey.” 

“ Children,” said she, “ did you leave your bundle at the sta- 
tion?” 

“We have not any bundle,” said Carl. 

“ Then you have no clothes except those you have on ?” said 
Mary. 

Carl said that they had not. “There was no time,” he said, 
“ to save any thing from the ship — at least there was not while we 
remained by the wreck.” 

“ And how long is it since you landed ?” asked Mary. 


A GOOD LODGING. 


125 


Mary employs Carl and Eosa in helping her. 

“ I don’t know exactly,” said Carl. “ It lias been a good many 
days, but I do not know how many.” 

Pretty soon after this Mary went out of the room, but she re- 
turned again after a little time, and then began to busy herself 
about supper. She asked Carl if he was very tired from walk- 
ing. Carl said that he was not. 

“ Then,” said she, “ perhaps you would be willing to help me 
a little.” 

Carl said that he should be very glad to help her, if there was 
any thing he could do ; and Rosa said that she should be glad to 
help too. 

Mary then gave Carl a pail, and asked him to go out to the 
pump in the yard, and pump it full of water. 

“Not full, however,” she added — “pump it about two thirds 
full, and then the water will not spill over you when you are bring- 
ing it in. When you get to the door, set it down upon the stone 
step a minute, to let the water drain off from the sides of the pail, 
so that it may not drop upon the floor, and then I will come and 
bring it in.” 

Carl executed this order with great care and precision. Rosa 
went with him. There was a little iron hook upon the nose of 
the pump, and Carl hung the pail upon this hook, and then let 
Rosa pump until the pail was about two thirds full. Then he 
carried it to the step of the door, and set it down there as Mary 
had directed. 

Their being thus permitted to do something to help their host- 
ess made them feel quite at home in the strange place that they 


126 


A GOOD LODGING. 


The trellis in the yard. Jocko’s response. 

had come to. Indeed, it was for the purpose of making them feel 
at home that Mary gave them this work to do. 

“Now, children,” said Mary, when they had brought the pail of 
water, “you may walk about the yard a little while, and see what 
you can find to amuse you, and then I shall want to send you 
away to do an errand.” 

So Carl and Rosa took a walk about the yard. Jocko all this 
time remained at the door, where he had been left when Carl and 
Rosa first went into the house. There was a trellis by the side 
of the door, with a honeysuckle growing upon it. Carl fastened 
the end of Jocko’s cord to one of the bars of this trellis, and Jocko, 
after climbing up as high as his cord would allow, sat quietly 
there, and employed himself in looking about with an air of great 
dignity, and watching every body that passed in and out. 

Carl and Rosa stopped a moment to look at Jocko as they 
went by. 

“ Well, Jocko,” said Carl, “ are you contented ?” 

Jocko, instead of answering, took off his hat and made a bow. 
He always did this when Carl said any thing to him that he did 
not understand. He supposed that it was some order or other, 
and so he obeyed the one that was the easiest to obey — to take 
off his hat and make a bow. 

“ I suppose he means yes by that,” said Rosa. 

“ I suppose so too,” said Carl. “It is all the way that he can 
say yes.” 

“ I wish he could talk,” said Rosa. 

“So do I,” said Carl. 


TRYING TO TEACH JOCKO. 



128 


A GOOD LODGING. 


Rosa conceives the idea of teaching J ocko to talk. 


The errand. 


“ Why don’t you teach him ?” asked Eosa. 

“ Oh, lie could not learn,” said Carl. 

“ Did you ever try to teach him ?” asked Eosa. 

“No,” said Carl, “not particularly; but I am sure that he 
could not learn.” 

“ Say yes, Jocko,” said Eosa, speaking the word very distinct- 
ly — “ Yes.” 

Jocko took off his hat and made a bow, and then immediately 
clapped his hat on again with a very quick motion, and looked an- 
other way. 

“ He can’t learn,” said Carl, “ and he does not like to have you 
try to teach him.” 

So Carl walked away, and Eosa followed him. She said, how- 
ever, that she meant to try again to teach him some day when she 
had more time. 

The children walked about the yard some time, and they found 
a great many things to amuse them. There were flowers growing 
here and there in beds and borders, and little seats ; and round 
behind a corner of the house there was a hencoop, with a hen and 
some chickens in it. 

After seeing every thing in the yard, the children went back 
again to the kitchen door, and said that they were ready to go on 
the errand. So Mary gave them the direction. She said that 
they must pass through a little gate which she pointed out to them 
in the back corner of the yard, and then proceed along a path 
which led through a garden until they came to another gate. 

“ Just behind this other gate,” continued Mary, “ you will see 


A GOOD LODGING. 


129 


Mary’s object in sending for Mrs. Byles. The supper. 

a small house standing near a stream of water. You will see a 
place near the water where there has been a fire under a little 
shed, and a kettle over it. There is a woman that lives in that 
house named Mrs. Byles. You must knock, and Mrs. Byles will 
come to the door. Tell her I want her to come to my house this 
evening at eight o’clock.” 

The children were much pleased at receiving this commission, 
and they set off immediately to execute it. They had no difficul- 
ty in finding Mrs. Byles’s house, and they delivered the message. 
Mrs. Byles said that she would come. 

The children then returned and reported to Mary that they had 
done the errand. They did not know what Mrs. Byles was want- 
ed for, but the truth was that she was a washerwoman, and Mary 
wanted her to wash the children’s under-clothes after they had 
gone to bed. She knew that it was very necessary for their com- 
fort, and also for their health, that their clothes should be washed, 
and as they had no change, the washing could only be done when 
they were in bed. 

Very soon after this Mary’s husband came in, and it was not 
long before supper was ready. Before they sat down to the sup- 
per the children washed their faces and hands at the pump, in a 
basin which Mary gave them for this purpose, and as their clothes 
were all neat and whole, they made a very respectable appearance 
as they sat at the table. The supper was excellent, and they both 
enjoyed it very much. 

While they were at the table Mary asked what Jocko would 
have for his supper. Carl said that he liked almost every thing, 

28 I 


130 


A GOOD LODGING, 


Jocko’s sumptuous meal. Putting Rosa to bed. 

and that he would be very thankful for whatever might be left at 
the table. So Mary laid out for him an apple, a biscuit, two 
pieces of hard cake, and some milk, which Eosa said she would 
pour into his shell. With these things Jocko made a most sump- 
tuous meal. 

About half an hour after supper Mary said it was time for the 
children to go to bed, but that first they were to wash themselves. 
She said that Eosa should go first, and afterward Carl. So she 
led Eosa into a small back room where there was a tub half full 
of warm water. On one side there was a table, with soap and 
towels. 

“ Now, Eosa,” said Mary, “ you must take off your clothes and 
wash yourself thoroughly, especially your head. I will stay and 
help you do it.” 

So Eosa undressed herself and got into the tub. Mary helped 
her at the bath, and, after the bath was over, she combed and dried 
her hair. She then gave her a clean night-dress to put on. It 
was one that she provided from her own stores. She then led her 
up a pair of narrow back stairs to a little room where there was a 
bed under a slanting roof. Eosa got into the bed* full of delight. 
Mary heard her say her prayers, and then bade her good-night. 
Eosa was kept awake some little time by excitement and pleasure, 
but at last she fell asleep. 

Mary then went down stairs and prepared a fresh supply of 
water for Carl, and he took his bath just as Eosa had done. When 
he came out of his bath he put on a night-gown which Mary had 
left for him, and then she came and combed and dried his hair, as 


A GOOD LODGING. 


iai 


Carl’s satisfaction. 


Evening prayers. 


Where Jocko slept. 


she had done Rosa’s. Carl said that he had not felt so well as he 
did then since he set sail from Europe. 

Mary then led him up stairs, and showed him a sleeping-place 
similar to the one where Rosa was. She heard him say his pray- 
ers too. Before he began, Carl asked her whether he should say 
them in Italian or in English. 

“ Which do you like best to say them in ?” asked Mary. 

“In Italian,” said Carl; “for that was the way my mother 
taught them to me when I was a little boy.” 

“ Very well,” said Mary ; “ say them in Italian, then.” 

So Carl said his prayers in Italian, while Mary sat by his side. 
When he had finished, he asked her whether she could understand 
his prayer. 

“No,” said Mary ; “but that is of no consequence. It is no 
matter whether I understand it or not. And now you can go to 
sleep. Sleep as long as you please to-morrow morning. I will 
call you when it is time for you to get up.” 

So Mary went away, and Carl was soon fast asleep. 

Jocko slept that night on a beam in the back room. Carl put 
him there while Rosa was taking her bath. He fastened the end 
of the cord to a staple which he found near, in order to prevent 
Jocko from running away in the night. 

“I don’t think you would be foolish enough to run away,” he 
said ; “ but you are pretty foolish sometimes, so it is best to be 
sure.” 

At eight o’clock that evening Mrs. Byles came round, according 
to the appointment which had been made with .her. Mary gave her 


132 


A GOOD LODGING. 


Breakfast. 


Parting conversation between Carl and Mary. ' 


the children’s clothes to wash, and arranged with her that they 
should be washed that night, and ironed very early in the morn- 
ing. The result of this arrangement was, that when the children 
awoke the next morning, they each found their clothes lying, neat- 
ly folded, upon a chair by the bedside, as nice and fresh as if they 
were new, and still warm from the ironing. 

They dressed themselves, full of delight and joy, and went down 
stairs to breakfast. The station-master himself had gone to the 
station. He had had his breakfast before ; so Mary gave the chil- 
dren a breakfast by themselves, and an excellent one it was. 

Carl had been accustomed to pay for his and Mary’s lodging, 
and he expected to pay in the cars. Accordingly, when the time 
arrived for setting out upon the journey, he asked Mary how much 
he should pay. 

“Why!” said she, surprised, “have you got any money?” 

“Yes, indeed,” said Carl, “we have got plenty of money.” 

Carl referred in this, not to the gold that he had in the purse 
and in the money-belt, but to the three dollars and a half which he 
had earned by means of Jocko. He considered that he had plen- 
ty of money, both because he regarded this as a large sum in it- 
self, and also because he felt confident that he could at any time 
earn more. 

Mary questioned Carl more particularly in regard to his funds, 
and to convince her of the truth of what he said, he took out the 
loose money which he had and showed it to her. 

Carl was convinced that there could not be any danger in show- 
ing his kind protectress his gold money, but as his father had en- 


A GOOD LODGING. 


133 


Mary allows Carl and Eosa to pay for the washing, but not for their lodging. 


joined it upon him not to show it to any body, he thought it best 
to say nothing about it. 

“ When at last I get a good place in Vermont,” said he to him- 
self, “ I will give my master the money to keep, but till then it 
shall be a secret for Rosa and me alone to know.” 

Mary was very much pleased to know how much money Carl 
had got, reckoning only the spare silver. 

“ I am very glad,” said she. “ It is a great deal better for you 
to earn your own living, and pay your own way, than to live on 
the charity of other people. In so doing you feel independent, 
and are all the time rising ; whereas, if you live upon what peo- 
ple give you, then you are all the time sinking, and sooner or later 
you become beggars, and nothing more. I did not intend that 
you should pay any thing for what you have had here ; but since 
I find you can, I shall let you do it ; and you will think better of 
yourself, and I shall think better of you, for being independent.” 

44 We would a great deal rather pay,” said Carl. “But we 
shall be just as much obliged to you, notwithstanding.” 

“There will only be the washing to pay for,” said Mary, “for 
that is all the money I have to pay out for you: that is ten 
cents.” 

“ Is that all ?” asked Carl. 

“Yes,” replied Mary. “As for your sleeping here and your 
supper, you have nothing to pay, for you have only been visitors. 
People never pay for their supper and bed when they are visiting. 
My husband invited you to come here of his own accord. He did 
it to please me, and it did please me very much indeed ; and all the 


134 


A GOOD LODGING. 


Mary’s advice to Carl. , Independence. Jocko again. 

expense you have put me to is ten cents ; that is what I shall 
pay to Mrs. Byles.” 

So Carl took the money out of his pocket and gave it to Mary, 
and she placed it on a corner of the mantel-piece to he ready for 
Mrs. Byles. 

“ And now you must go on,” said Mary, “ and pay your own 
way every where, and he independent. Don’t expect people to 
give you money or any thing else. You must not even wish that 
they should. That would he treating you as if you were beggars. 
But you are not beggars. You are earning your living by exhib- 
iting Jocko. You can earn a very good living in that way, and 
perhaps lay up money. So don’t let people ever treat you as if 
you were beggars.” 

“ But we must not forget Jocko,” continued Mary, interrupting 
herself. “ It is time for him to have his breakfast.” 

So saying, she went to the table which the children had just 
left, and took up a variety of things for Jocko, and put them on a 
plate. Rosa, at the same time, took out the shell, so as to have it 
ready for Jocko’s drink. The drink was made by putting a little 
coffee into a small mug of milk, and sweetening it well. 

Jocko was overjoyed to see his breakfast coming, and he leaped 
up and down the trellis with delight. When the plate was put 
upon the ground he came down to it, but he did not begin to eat 
till Rosa had given him some coffee from the shell. 

Rosa, however, only poured out a small quantity at first. 

“ That’s enough for you now,” said she. “ You shall have the 
rest at the end of your breakfast.” 


A GOOD LODGING. 


135 


Jocko’s politeness. 


Good wishes. 


Carl’s promise. 


Mary stood by, looking on with great interest to witness the 
joy which the monkey seemed to manifest in having so good a 
meal. Every now and then Jocko recognized her presence, and 
acknowledged the honor which she did him by taking off his hat 
and making a bow to her. He did this always in a ludicrously 
hurried manner, and then put the hat on his head again very 
quick, and looked around anxiously and eagerly to Carl, as if he 
did not know whether he had done right or wrong. 

At length the time arrived for the children to set out on their 
journey. Mary accompanied them to the gate. As they were 
going, she said she was very glad they came to her house, and she 
hoped they would be successful in getting good places in Ver- 
mont. 

“ I shall want very much to hear from you,” said she, “ and to 
know how you get along. Could you not write me a letter and 
tell me?” 

“We don’t know how to write,” said Carl, sorrowfully. 

“Ah! that’s a pity,” said Mary. “Do you know how to 
read?” 

“ A little,” said Carl : “ I can read a little, and I read every day 
in my little red Testament, so as to learn to read better.” 

« That’s an excellent plan,” said Mary ; “ and you must learn 
to write the first opportunity.” 

“ I will,” said Carl. 

“ And, as soon as you have learned to write,” continued Mary, 
“ write a letter to me, and send it to the care of my husband. 
Wait a minute, and I will give you the address.” 


136 


A GOOD LODGING. 


What the children said about the station-master’s wife. 


So Mary went back into the house, and soon returned with a 
small piece of paper, on which was written her husband’s name 
and place of residence. She gave this to Carl, and he put it in 
his pocket. She then bade Carl and Rosa good-by, and they 
went away. 

“How kind she has been to us!” said Carl, as they walked 
along. 

“Yes,” said Rosa, “very kind indeed.” 

“ And she is the first person we have seen who did not seem to 
care any thing about Jocko,” added Carl. 

“ She liked to see him eat his breakfast,” suggested Rosa. 

“ True,” said Carl; “but she did not ask to see him play any 
of his tricks, or dance, or any thing. I don’t believe she would 
care at all for any such things.” 

“ No,” said Rosa, “ she only seemed to care for us .” 


VERMONT. 


137 


A comical spectacle. 


The remarkably low price of tickets. 


CHAPTER IX. 

VERMONT. 

Jocko drinking from Rosa’s shell was 
a spectacle to make the gravest person 
laugh, especially when, as was his usual 
custom, he interrupted his draft every mo- 
ment to take off his hat and bow to the 
spectators. Even Mary, who paid so lit- 
tle attention in general to the monkey’s an- 
tics, was amused with this performance, 
though her interest in it was, after all, per- 
haps, chiefly an interest to see how much 
Jocko enjoyed his breakfast. 

When at length the children reached the station, they found 
that the station-master was ready to receive them. Carl told him 
that they wanted to go as far on the road toward Vermont as their 
money would carry them, which he said was three dollars and a half. 

The station-master said that he could only receive pay for about 
one hundred miles, and that that would only cost one dollar. 
“For both of us ?” asked Carl. 

“Yes, for both of you,” said the man. 

“And for Jocko too ?” said Rosa. 

“ Yes,” said the man, smiling, “ I shall not charge any thing for 
Jocko.” 



138 


VERMONT. 


What the station-master said to Carl. The children in the cars. 

Indeed, the station-master charged less than half price for Carl 
and Eosa. He might have allowed them to go free by giving them 
what is called a pass, which would have served with the conduct- 
ors of the train instead of a ticket. But he acted on his wife’s 
principle, and was very averse to so exercising charity as to turn 
people into beggars, or to confirm them in habits of begging. 

So he took the dollar, and gave Carl regular tickets, one for him- 
self and one for Eosa. 

“There,” said he, “you pay your way just like all the other 
passengers, and you have as good a right to your seats as any of 
the rest of them have to theirs. Don’t be afraid, therefore. This 
is a free country, and every one that earns his living and pays his 
way has equal rights, in all public conveyances, with every one 
else.” 

The hearing of these words, and the consciousness that he was 
really paying his way and was no beggar, made Carl feel more like 
a man than he had ever felt before — more, in fact, than it is pos- 
sible for such a boy to feel in any of the countries of Europe. 

The station-master also, with the tickets, gave Carl a paper, 
which he told him he had better show to the conductors in the 
cars. A short time after this business was arranged a train came, 
and the station-master took the children into a car and gave them 
a seat. They had a very pleasant seat all to themselves. Eosa 
sat next to the window, and Jocko nestled down on the seat be- 
tween her and Carl. 

In a few minutes the train started. It was a new sensation to 
all three of the travelers, for neither of them had ever been in a 


VERMONT. 


139 


A child spies out Jocko in the cars. The conductor. A contribution. 

rail-road carriage before. Jocko was afraid, but Carl and Eosa 
were greatly pleased. 

The journey in the cars proved to be a very prosperous one. 
In a short time after they commenced it the attention of the peo- 
ple who sat near Carl and Eosa was attracted to Jocko. He was 
first spied by a child who sat in the seat before them, and who, in 
kneeling up in his seat and looking around, saw Jocko’s face peep- 
ing out between Carl and Eosa. He immediately uttered a loud 
exclamation of surprise and delight, which caused his mother to 
turn round. She asked what the animal was. Carl told her it 
was a monkey, and he drew Jocko out to let her and the child 
see him. 

Presently, when the conductor came along to collect the tickets, 
he stopped to look at Jocko, and Carl took that opportunity to 
hand him the paper which the station-master had given him. The 
conductor read it, and then gave it back to Carl again, saying at 
the same time, 

“ Yes, I will come back and see you again by-and-by.” So he 
left them and went on down the cars, collecting his tickets. 

The people were so much amused with Jocko, and they became 
so much interested in Carl and Eosa, and in the accounts of their 
adventures which Carl gave them in answer to the questions which 
they asked, that presently they began to give them small sums of 
money. They called upon Eosa to hold out her tambourine for 
the purpose of receiving the money, and the people in distant seats 
beckoned her to go down the cars so that they might all con- 
tribute. When Carl counted the money at the end of the col- 


140 


VERMONT. 


Attentive rail-road conductors. The terminus. A tavern. 

lection, he found that it amounted to between thirty and forty 
cents. 

In the course of the day, as new passengers came in, and as the 
children changed their places according to the directions of the 
conductor, they found new companies of spectators, so that, in all, 
they received that day a little more than the dollar which they 
had paid for their fare. 

“ The ride in the cars will not cost us any thing,” said Carl. 

“That’s very good luck for us,” said Rosa. “We can have 
another ride to-morrow, if we wish.” 

The paper which the station-master had given to Carl, and 
which Carl showed the conductors as he went along, seemed to 
cause them to pay particular attention to him and Rosa, and at 
every stopping-place where any change was to be made, they al- 
ways came and told them what to do. When night came, and 
the train they were in reached the end of its journey, the conductor 
that was then in charge pointed out to them a tavern where they 
could go and spend the night. 

“ Have you got any money?” said the conductor. 

“Yes, sir,” said Carl, “ we have got a plenty.” 

“ Because they won’t turn you away from that house, even if 
you have not got any money.” 

The children went to the tavern which the conductor had indi- 
cated, and were very kindly received. They spent the night there. 
It was now getting toward the fall of the year, so that the even- 
ings were cool, and on this evening there was a fire in the parlor 
ot the hotel. This parlor was a large room in the second story. 


VERMONT. 


141 


The children make new acquaintances at the tavern. 


There were various other parties of travelers in the room. These 
were people that had arrived in the train, or had come from the 
interior of the country in stages, with the view of taking some 
train the next morning. 

Among the rest were two neat and ticiy-looking girls. They 
were factory-girls. They had been at work in a factory in Massa- 
chusetts, and were now going home to make a visit. It happened 
that they were seated that evening near Carl and Eosa, and they 
fell into conversation with them. The girls took quite an interest 
in Eosa, and soon Carl joined in the conversation. The girls told 
him that they lived in Vermont, and they gave him some informa- 
tion about the state, and the part of it where they would be most 
likely to obtain situations. 

“Go with us to-morrow,” said they, “and we will show you 
the way.” 

Carl determined to accept this offer, and the next morning he 
and Eosa got up very early, on being awakened by a knock at 
the doors which one of the girls made, and, dressing themselves 
as quick as they could, they went down to the breakfast-room. 
After breakfast they went with the girls to the station, and then, 
after buying their tickets for the place that the girls* named to 
them, which was not very far from the town where they then 
were, they took their places in the car directly behind the two 
girls. 

The road lay through a very pleasant country. It followed the 
bank of a large river. Sometimes there were broad green fields 
to be seen extending each way from the river to a great distance. 


142 


VERMONT. 


Vermont. 


Cold winters. 


The stranger’s prediction. 


At other times the hills and the mountains came down close to 
the water’s edge, barely allowing room for the water to get by. 

“ Is all this Vermont ?” said Carl to one of the girls. 

“Yes,” said she, “this is all Vermont. How do you like it?” 

“ I like it very much indeed,” said Carl. 

“It looks very pleasant now,” said she, “but the winters are 
very long and cold. For five or six months the ground is entire- 
ly covered with snow. How do you think you will like that ?” 

“Z shall like it very well,” replied Carl, “and so will Rosa, 
but I don’t know how Jocko will bear it.” 

“ Why, can he not bear cold well ?” asked the girls. 

“Ho,” replied Carl, “he can not bear it at all.” 

“ Then,” said the girl, “ I don’t know what he will do.” 

There was a rather rough-looking man, with a weather-beaten 
face, sitting in the seat opposite to Carl’s, and directly across the 
passage, and though he had not appeared to be listening to the 
conversation, he here showed that he had been listening by say- 
ing* 

“ I can tell you what he will do.” 

“What, sir?” asked Carl. 

“ He will die,” replied the man. “ He won’t live out half the 
first winter. Monkeys are made for tropical regions. I’ve seen 
them often on the coast of Africa, and you may depend upon it 
they won’t stand a Vermont winter — snow five feet deep on a level, 
and thermometer twenty degrees below zero.” 

This intelligence struck Carl’s mind heavily like a blow. For 
some time he was silent. He did not know what to think or say. 


VERMONT. 


143 


Carl’s sorrowful reflections. The valley. Leaving the train. 

It seemed to him ungenerous and ungrateful to use Jocko’s serv- 
ices as a means of earning his living and paying the expenses 
of his journey, arid yet to give the journey such a direction as 
to bring the poor monkey to a place where he must inevitably 
perish. 

He, however, did not see now what he could do but to go on, 
and he consoled himself by hoping that there would be some way 
found of keeping Jocko warm. 

About the middle of the day the train stopped at the station 
where the girls said they thought that Carl and Rosa had better 
get out. It was at a place where a branch valley came down from 
among the mountains to the great central valley through which 
they had been traveling. 

“ There is a fine region of farming-land, and a great many ex- 
cellent farms up this valley,” said the girl; “so you had better 
go there. They have plenty of help on all the farms here near the 
rail-road, but if you go up this valley five or ten miles, or perhaps 
twenty, I think you will get a place.” 

So Carl thanked the two girls for their kindness to him and 
Rosa, and then got out of the cars. They stood on the platform 
till the train went on. When the train began to move, the girls 
bade the children good-by by bowing to them through the win- 
dow of the car. 

There was quite a crowd of persons on the platform, and they 
all seemed very curious to look at Jocko, but Carl had no heart to 
exhibit him and make him dance then. 

“Poor fellow!” said he to himself, in a low tone; “to make 


144 


VERMONT. 


Carl and Rosa resting in the school-house yard. 

you dance when you are going where you can’t live would not be 
fair.” 

In an hour or two, however, Carl began to recover his spirits, 
and, as the day was very warm, his fears in respect to Jocko’s 
being able to stand the climate were very much abated. So he 
began to show Jocko to the people in the villages that he passed 
through, and also to such groups that he met by the wayside as 
expressed a desire to see him. 

One of the exhibitions that Carl made of Jocko was somewhat 
curious, as it was connected with the first writing lesson that he 
ever took. About three o’clock in the afternoon they came in 
sight of a school-house, which stood by the road side in a pleas- 
ant place under some trees. 

“ Ah !” said Carl, “ here is another school-house. I hope there 
will be a school-house near the farm where we are going to live, 
Eosa, so that you and I can go to school.” 

“ I hope so too,” said Eosa. 

“This is a very pleasant place for a school-house,” contin- 
ued Carl. “Let us sit down here and rest. See! here is a 
first-rate seat.” 

This seat was in the school-house yard, and Carl and Eosa 
went and sat down upon it to rest. Every thing was still about 
the building, so that the children did not suppose that the schol- 
ars were then in school. But they were, and, before Carl and 
Eosa had been seated many minutes, the door opened, and from 
twenty to thirty children came running out together for their 
recess. 


VERMONT. 


145 


The recess at school. Carl’s bargain with one of the scholars. 

The foremost of them paused when he saw these strange chil- 
dren in their seat, and then, in a moment afterward, they all gath- 
ered round, and began to utter exclamations of wonder and sur- 
prise at seeing the monkey. 

“ Will he bite ?” asked one of the girls. 

“No,” said Carl, “he will not bite.” 

“What is he?” asked another girl. 

“He is a monkey,” answered Carl. 

“ What does he do ?” asked the girl. 

“He can dance,” said Carl. “He can dance to the music we 
make for him on the flageolet and tambourine. 

The children had all by this time formed a ring around the seat, 
and they looked on with eager curiosity. One of them, however, 
ran back into the school-room to tell the teacher that there was a 
monkey out at the door, and a boy and girl with a flageolet and 
a tambourine to make him dance. So the teacher came out to 
see them. 

The teacher, who was a very pleasant-looking young woman, 
stood behind the rest, and looked over their heads, and thus did 
not interrupt the conversation. 

“ We should like to see him dance,” said the girl who had first 
spoken, “ only I suppose you ask some money for it, and we have 
not got any money.” 

“ I’ll tell you how you can pay,” said Carl. “Do you know 
how to write ?” 

“ Yes,” said the girl. 

“ Then,” said Carl, “ you shall give me a writing lesson. You 

K 


28 


146 


VERMONT. 


Jocko in the entry. Carl’s first lesson in -writing. The copies. 

shall bring me out a pen and ink and a piece of paper, and teach 
me a little how to write.” 

“Well,” said the girl, “I will go and ask the teacher if I 
may.” 

Then she turned round to go in and ask the teacher, and be- 
hold, the teacher was there, right before her. 

“Yes,” said the teacher, “you may; or, rather, I'll give him 
a writing lesson. He shall show you the monkey now during the 
recess, and then he shall come into the school, and I will let him 
sit at a desk and write.” 

“ And shall the monkey come into the school too ?” asked one 
of the other scholars. 

At this suggestion all the company laughed aloud. 

“No,” said the teacher, “he must stay in the entry.” 

“ That will be better,” said Carl. “ I can fasten him in the 
entry.” 

This arrangement was carried fully into effect. Carl exhibit- 
ed the monkey during the recess, and when the bell rang he car- 
ried him to the entry and fastened him there, and then, after lay- 
ing down the flageolet and the tambourine carefully near him, he 
and Rosa went with the children into the school. 

The teacher gave Carl a desk among the boys, and Rosa one 
among the girls, and put before each of them a pen and some 
ink, and also a sheet of ruled paper. On the upper line of the 
paper was a copy which they were to write. Rosa’s copy con- 
sisted of straight marks and round o’s. Carl’s was his own name, 
Carl, written pretty large and plain. 


VERMONT. 


147 


A diligent pupil. Carl learned to write his name at one lesson. 

The children remained in the school about an hour. Carl con- 
tinued writing all this time, but Rosa would have got tired before 
the hour was out had not her attention been attracted by what 
she saw and heard in the school-room. It amused her very much 
to observe how the school-room was arranged, and to see the class- 
es called up, and to hear them recite their lessons, standing all in 
a row before the teacher. 

Carl devoted himself wholly to his writing, and he learned to 
write his name quite well. It is very unusual for a person to 
learn to write his name in the first lesson in writing that he 
takes, but that is because it is very unusual for a boy to be so 
much interested in learning as Carl was, and to take so much 
pains. 

After the hour was out, the teacher came to look at the work 
which Carl and Rosa had done, and she seemed very much pleased 
with it. She said she wished that she had them for her scholars 
all the time. 

Carl and Eosa both wished so too. 

After this the children went on slowly for a day or two, with- 
out any particular adventure. They received some money now 
and then from some persons who saw the monkey, and they made 
inquiries at several farm-houses for a place, but they did not find 
any. They only made inquiries at such farm-houses as looked 
attractive to them, and seemed to be places where they would like 
to live. The persons to whom they applied seemed to take an 
interest in them, and they talked with them freely about their 
history ; but the interview always ended with their saying that 


148 


VERMONT. 


The children traveling on. How they like Vermont. 

they did not want either a boy or girl. They, however, in sev- 
eral instances, directed them to other farm-houses farther on, where 
there was a probability that they might find jplaces. This, and 
the general kindness with which they were treated, encouraged 
Carl to proceed. 

“We shall find some place to live in by-and-by, Bosa,” said 
he. 

“Yes,” said Bosa, “I think we shall.” 

“ And I am glad we came to Vermont,” said Carl, “ for I think 
it is a very pleasant country.” 

“ So many pretty mountains and valleys,” said Bosa. 

“Yes, and woods,” said Carl. 

“ Perhaps they will let us walk in these woods sometimes,” 
added Bosa. 

“ Yes,” said Carl ; “I don’t believe they are as particular about 
their woods as they are in France and England. If you go the 
least step out of your way there into the woods, like as not you 
will get caught in a trap, or be taken up by a policeman and sent 
off to prison.” 


THE CONCLUSION. 


149 


The children meet a black woman. 


Mutual astonishment. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

One evening, about sunset, as the chil- 
dren were walking along, thinking what 
arrangement they should make for the 
night, they saw before them, at a short dis- 
tance, a black woman drawing a child in a 
little wagon, with another older child walk- 
ing by the side of it. 

“Rosa, Rosa,” said Carl, “look! look! 
there is a black woman.” 

The children had never before seen a 
evening. black woman, and they were therefore 

very much surprised. 

As the black woman and her party approached toward Rosa and 
Carl, she was as much surprised to see them as they were to see 
her. 

“Lucy, child,” she exclaimed to the girl who was walking with 
her, “look! look! there comes a monkey.” 

Of course, when the two parties came together, there was great 
mutual astonishment. Carl and Rosa looked intently at the black 
woman, while she, and also Lucy and the baby, were equally ab- 
sorbed with the sight of the monkey. 

There are very few colored people in Vermont. Carl had not 



150 


THE CONCLUSION. 


The visitors from the South. An invitation. Mr. Morey’s house. 

expected to see any there. Indeed, this one did not belong in 
Vermont. She belonged to North Carolina. She had come on 
with her mistress to spend the summer in Vermont. Her duty was 
to take care of the children, especially of Charlie, a boy a little 
younger than Lucy, who was in delicate health. 

The name of her mistress was Pinckney. Mrs. Pinckney was 
spending the summer at a farm-house in Vermont. The wife of 
the farmer was a distant relative of hers, and Mrs. Pinckney often 
came to spend the summer at her house. 

The farm-house where they were staying was at a little distance 
from the place where Carl and Rosa met them in the wood. The 
black woman, whose name was Phebe, had been out to give the 
baby a ride in the wagon, and was now going home. 

All this Phebe told to Carl and Rosa in the conversation which 
they had there together ; for Phebe’s attention was so strongly at- 
tracted by the monkey that she stopped to ask Carl where he came 
from, and a long conversation followed between the two parties in 
consequence. 

“I wish you would go up with me to Mr. Morey’s,” said she, 
“ and let Charlie see the monkey. Perhaps Mr. Morey would hire 
you.” 

“ Well,” said Carl, “ we will go.” 

So they turned round and followed Phebe along the road till they 
came to a branch road, where they turned off, and ascended a ris- 
ing ground to the place where Mr. Morey lived. They soon came 
in sight of the house. It was a small house in height, as it con- 
sisted only of one story, though it was considerably extended over 


THE CONCLUSION. 


151 


The appearance of a prosperous Vermont farm-house. 

the ground. But, though the house seemed small, the barns and 
sheds about it were of great size and very numerous, so that the 
establishment formed quite a little village. 

These buildings were very pleasantly situated among the gar- 
dens and orchards, and behind them was a little hill covered with 
' forest trees. In front was a very extended view over a fertile and 
beautiful valley. 

“ What a pleasant place it is !” said Rosa. 

“Yes,” said Carl, “it is a very pleasant place indeed; I think 
Mr. Morey must have a very nice farm ; and I am glad to see so 
many barns and sheds. I suppose that shows that Mr. Morey 
keeps a great many animals.” 

“He does,” said Phebe. “ He has horses, and oxen, and sheep, 
and cows, and pigs, and chickens, and geese, and turkeys, and 
doves, and nobody knows what besides.” 

“I should like the hens, and chickens, and doves,” exclaimed 
Rosa.. 

“And I should like the horses and oxen,” said Carl. 

When the children came into the yard, they saw a man there, 
in a plain farmer’s dress, watering a very handsome horse at a 
pump. 

“ Well, Phebe,” said he, “ what have you brought us now?” 

Phebe explained the case by saying that she had met the chil- 
dren in the road with the monkey, and that she had brought them 
up to the house in order to let little Charlie see them, thinking the 
sight might amuse him. She added that the monkey’s name was 
Jocko. 


152 


THE CONCLUSION. 


Mr. Morey does not want any boys. Charlie’s pleasure in the exhibition. 

“I think it likely it will amuse him,” said the man; “any 
thing that is an animal, no matter what it is, if it is only alive and 
moving, always amuses him.” 

“And besides,” continued Phebe, “the boy wants to get a place, 
and I did not know but that you would like a boy.” 

“No,” said Mr. Morey, “ not I. I don’t want any boys. I have 
no faith in boys.” 

Phebe looked somewhat abashed at this rebuff, though, after all, 
it was not really so severe as it might seem, for Mr. Morey said it 
in a very good-natured way. 

“However,” said he, “take them in and give them some sup- 
per, and show the monkeys to Charlie.” 

“ There is only one monkey, please, sir,” said Phebe. 

“Ah!” said Mr. Morey, “I thought there were two. There’s 
Jocko for one, and the boy for the other.” 

Phebe laughed, and led the children into the house. 

Mrs. Pinckney was very much pleased that Phebe had brought 
them there, on account of the amusement which she knew that 
Charlie would take in seeing Jocko. She conducted them all di- 
rectly into Charlie’s bed-room. 

Charlie was quite an invalid, and he was lying at this time on 
a sofa by a window amusing himself with a wind-mill that he was 
making. He was, of course, greatly pleased to see the monkey ; 
and when Carl and Rosa played on the flageolet and tambourine, 
and made Jocko dance, he was almost beside himself with delight. 

All the grown people in the house sympathized with Charlie’s 
pleasure, and though perhaps they would have felt above being 


THE CONCLUSION. 


153 


What Mr. Morey said about them. 


Mrs. Morey’s plan for Rosa. 


amused at such an exhibition by themselves alone, they took quite 
an interest in it on Charlie’s account. Even Mr. Morey came in 
to see, and at the close of the performance he talked a little with 
Carl about his history. He was so much pleased with Carl’s an- 
swers to his questions, and with his general demeanor, that he 
said, as he passed through the kitchen in going out, that Jocko 
was more of a monkey, and the boy less of one than he supposed. 

In the course of the evening Mrs. Morey took a great fancy to 
Rosa, and she began to think that she should like to keep her to 
help her in her work about the house. 

“I have been in want of a little girl,” she said, “ a long time. 
A little girl, if she is bright and willing, is so handy to run of er- 
rands, and do a thousand little things, that take up a great deal of 
time if you do them yourself, and don’t amount to any thing, after 
all.” 

“Very likely,” said her husband. 

“ And so, if you are willing,” she continued, “ I don’t know 
but that I should like to keep her.” 

“Oh yes,” said Mr. Morey, “just as you please. A woman 
must always be in some folly or other, and it does not make much 
difference what it is.” 

Mr. Morey said this at the supper-table, and all the people 
laughed to hear it. They knew very well that he said it in joke, 
and that really he was glad to have Rosa kept. 

“ But truly, now, husband,” said Mrs. Morey, “ don’t you think 
it would be a good plan ?” 

“ I have nothing to say against it,” said he. 


154 


THE CONCLUSION. 


Carl in Charlie’s room again. 


The vessel. 


Charlie’s request. 


“ And are you perfectly willing ?” 

“Yes,” said he, “I am perfectly willing you should keep the 
girl, provided you do not ask me to keep the boy.” 

It was, however, concluded that, at any rate, both the chil- 
dren and the monkey should stay at the house that night, and 
then, if it should be finally determined that Rosa should remain, 
Mr. Morey said he would do what he could to put Carl in the way 
of finding a place in the neighborhood. In the course of the 
evening, Carl went into Charlie’s bed-room to show him the mon- 
key again, and afterward Carl entertained him a long time by 
telling him stories about the sea. 

He also helped him to finish the wind-mill he was making. 
While Carl was at work upon the wind-mill, Charlie brought out 
from a drawer a small ship which he had begun to make, but he 
had not been able to finish the rigging of it. Carl told him that 
he thought he could do that for him. He had learned to rig little 
vessels at sea. 

“ If I have time to-morrow,” said he, “I will do it for you, and 
if I don’t have time to finish it, I can show you how to do it your- 
self after I have gone.” 

But Charlie very much preferred that Carl should finish rig- 
ging the little ship for him, and so he asked his mother to ask 
Mrs. Morey to ask her husband to let Carl stay at least through 
the next day. 

Mrs. Morey consented to this, and so it was arranged that Carl 
was to stay. 

The next morning after breakfast Charlie wished to have Carl 


THE CONCLUSION. 


155 


Carl in search of work upon the farm. 


Clearing land. 


begin rigging the vessel, but Carl said he must go out with the 
men, to see if he could not find something to do to make himself 
useful. 

“You see,” said he, “that Mr. Morey is very kind to let me 
stay here to-day, and I must do as much as I can in return ; but 
in the evening I will rig your ship.” 

“ Ah ! no,” said Charlie, in an imploring voice, “ stay in to-day 
and play with me.” 

“ I should like to stay and play with you,” said Carl, “ but it 
is better that I should go and work. Besides, if Mr. Morey finds 
that I can work well, perhaps he will be willing to let me stay 
some days.” 

“ Ah ! yes,” said Charlie, speaking now in a joyful tone, “ per- 
haps he will. So you had better go and work.” 

So Carl went out with the men to work. The work which 
they were doing was the clearing of a piece of land. The trees 
had been felled and cut into lengths for firewood, and laid up in 
piles all about the field. What remained to be done was to gath- 
er up all the branches, and pile them up too in great heaps, to be 
burned. 

Besides the branches of the trees, there were a great many old 
and decayed logs lying about the field, and these were to be pried 
up out of their beds, and drawn by means of oxen to the nearest 
heap of bushes, to be burned. While the men were employed in 
getting out these logs, and in piling up the larger limbs of the 
trees, Carl gathered up the little ones, and thus he assisted a great 
deal. 


156 


THE CONCLUSION. 


Carl’s services in the work. Mr. Morey concludes to keep him. 

He also rendered himself useful in other ways. He watched 
the workmen, and if he saw that a tool, or a chain, or any thing 
else were wanted, he ran and got it, and brought it where it was 
required. He took care also not to hinder them by getting in their 
way, or officiously undertaking things which he could not do. 

Mr. Morey was not with the men in this work, but at night, 
when they came home, he asked them what sort of a boy Carl 
was. 

“ He is a real handy little fellow,” said one of the men. “We 
wish you would keep him a few days longer, till we get this clear- 
ing done.” 

So Mr. Morey said that Carl might stay a week longer, but not 
another day beyond that. 

“ I shall have nothing for you to do,” said he, “ after the week 
is out ; but if you are a good boy, and earn a good character, I’ll 
see what I can do about getting you a place in the neighbor- 
hood.” 

But Carl was so good a boy, and made himself so useful, that, 
at the end of the week, Mr. Morey concluded to keep him longer. 
Carl took good care not to lose the good character he had acquired, 
but grew more and more useful as he grew older and stronger, and 
the result was that both he and Rosa continued to live with Mr. 
and Mrs. Morey for many years. He gave his and Rosa’s money 
to Mr. Morey to keep for them, and Mrs. Morey put both sums 
out at interest. 

As for J ocko, he very happily escaped the danger of attempting 
to spend a winter in Vermont, which, considering his tropical con- 


THE CONCLUSION. 


157 


How Jocko escaped a Vermont winter. Mrs. Pinckney’s delicate kindness. 

stitution, would doubtless have been a hazardous experiment. He 
was saved from this risk by Mrs. Pinckney. One day, about a 
week before she was to return to the South, she asked Carl what 
he expected to do with Jock^ in the winter. 

“I don’t know, indeed, ma’am,” said Carl, “and that is what 
troubles me. He can not bear the least cold.” 

“ I don’t think he will live if he stays here,” said Mrs. Pinck- 
ney. 

Carl did not answer, but looked very serious and sorrowful. 

“ I don’t think he can possibly live through the winter, if you 
attempt to keep him, and so I think you had better sell him to me. 
I would give you a good price for him.” 

Carl did not speak in reply to this proposal, but he began slowly 
to turn away, for he felt big tears coming into his eyes. He could 
not bear the thought of selling Jocko, or even of parting with him 
in any way. 

Mrs. Pinckney immediately perceived how the case stood. She 
was a lady of noble and generous sentiments, and her heart and 
mind were sufficiently enlarged to enable her to understand what 
many persons in her station of life seem never able to learn, 
namely, that people in the humblest stations may be as noble, 
and generous, and as sensitive as they. She instantly understood 
Carl’s feelings, and respected them. 

“ On the whole,” said she, seeming not to have noticed Carl’s 
distress, “ I don’t think I should wish to sell him, if I were you ; 
but still I think you ought to make some arrangement to have 
him pass the winter in a warmer climate. How would you like 


±L>0 


THE CONCLUSION. 


Carl’s contract for Jocko’s board. 


the plan of boarding him with me ? and then I can bring him 
back and give him to you again when I come North next sum- 
mer.” 

“ I should like that very well, I think,” said Carl. “ How 
much would it cost for his board ?” 

“Not much,” said Mrs. Pinckney. “You see Phebe will take 
care of him ; she will like to do it. Then he would be of consid- 
erable service in amusing the children, and it would be right to 
make a deduction on that account. I think that ten cents a month 
would be enough. I will agree to take him, and take good care of 
him, for ten cents a month.” 

“ Well,” said Carl, “ that will do very well indeed ; only,” he 
added, thoughtfully, “I don’t know how I could send you the 
money.” 

So saying, he took out a ten cent piece from his pocket, and 
looked at it with a view of determining whether or not it was too 
heavy to be sent by mail. 

“You could send it in postage stamps, in a letter,” said Mrs. 
Pinckney. “Three three cent stamps and one one cent would 
just make it.” 

“ And how can I get the postage stamps ?” 

“ At the post-office,” said Mrs. Pinckney. “ You can carry 
your ten cents to the post-office, and they will give you the stamps 
for them ; then you can write me a little letter, and put the stamps 
inside. 

Carl gladly acceded to this plan, and so it was settled that Jocko 
was to go to Carolina to spend the winter. 


THE CONCLUSION. 


159 


Why Mrs. Pinckney proposed that Carl should pay for Jocko’s board. 

Mrs. Pinckney proposed this payment of ten cents a month in 
order to gratify Carl’s sense of independence, and enable him to 
feel that he was still Jocko’s owner and protector, but she had no 
idea that the postage stamps would be sent. She thought that 
long before the twelve months had expired Carl would have for- 
gotten the arrangement. But Carl did not forget. He sent the 
stamps regularly all the winter. In return, he received from 
time to time a little note from Mrs. Pinckney, acknowledging the 
receipt of the money, and informing him of Jocko’s health and 
welfare. Toward the middle of the winter, she said, in one of 
these notes, that she was afraid she had charged too much for 
Jocko’s board, for he made so little trouble, and was such a great 
source of amusement to the children, that, on the whole, she 
thought he fully earned his living. She said, however, that she 
would not then decide fully, but she would wait until the winter 
was more nearly gone, and that, if Jocko continued to behave as 
well as he had done, she should feel bound in honor to return the 
money which she had received for his board. 

Accordingly, in March, Carl received a note from Mrs. Pinck- 
ney, inclosing a gold dollar, wrapped in a small piece of silk pa- 
per. She said that Jocko had more than compensated them for 
the expense and trouble of boarding him by the pleasure they 
derived from his company, and by his services in amusing the 
children, and that she could not conscientiously keep the money 
which she had received. Carl paid his dollar to Mr. Morey, in 
•order to have the amount of it added to his fund. 

Carl and Rosa lived long and happily at Mr. Morey’s, both of 


160 


THE CONCLUSION. 


The end of the story of Carl and Jocko. 


them becoming every year more and more useful, as they grew 
older and stronger. Every spring Jocko came North with Mrs. 
Pinckney, and spent the summer in Vermont, and in the fall he 
went South again with her, in order to spend the cold season in 
Carolina. It was understood that he paid for his board in both 
places by his services in amusing children. This continued for 
some years, but what ultimately became of him I never knew. 


THE END. 


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• shrewd enough not to put up with any thing of lower 
quality. — N. Y. Daily Times. 

“ Harper’s Magazine” and “ Harper’s Story Books” will 
henceforth be welcomed as joint visitors in thousands of 
families where there are juvenile readers to be pleased as 
well as adults — N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 

Once introduced into the family circle, these books will 
i ever be welcome visitants, eagerly looked for by our young 
friends. Every improvement tn the typographic and xyl- 
'graphic arts is made to contribute to them embellishment. 
— Detroit Free Press. 

“ Harper’s Story Books” have won the hearts of chil- 
t dren all over the land. When once introduced into the 
family, it is impossible to deny the importunity which de- 
mands the new “ Story Book” as soon as it is published. 
No juvenile books could be better adapted to awaken in- 
terest and impart instruction. — Neiv Englander ( Congre- 
gational Review), Neiv Haven. 

We can not too highly commend this series of Story 
Books for children. The Christian parent may safely 
trust Mr. Abbott as a guide to his little ones in the path 
of goodness. — Southern Churchman. 

We have heard so many fathers and mothers who rec- 
ognize the pleasant duty of guiding the minds of their 
children in the paths of knowledge at home, speak in 
terms of the highest commendation of this series of books 
for children, that we feel a desire to see them universally 
read among children. They constitute the finest series 
of books for the young that we have seen. — Louisville 
Courier. 

As long as bright eyes love to read pleasant stories and 
look at pretty pictures, such juveniles will be popular.— 
Church Review. 

/Ae heartily commend it. For adaptation to the child’s 
^aind, and easily-comprehended moral, Mr. Abbott deserves 
great praise — New York Albion. 


■ Comments of the Press. 

The most desirable juvenile books issued in the nation. 
Every juvenile reader will be glad to own them, and often 
want to reperuse them. — Christian Advocate and Jour- 
nal, June, 1856. 

Another of the charming series of Story Books which 
are becoming the household library of Young America, and 
even crossing the Atlantic, to delight thousands of juvenile 
readers in the British Islands. * * Who can deny his chil- 
dren such a fund of useful and agreeable instruction when 
it is within his reach for the sum of 25 cents? — N. Y. 
Daily News. 

Who is better qualified than Jacob Abbott to prepare 
such a work ? He always seems to have an intuitive 
perception of just what children want— just what will take 
with them, and so serve as the medium of conveying in- 
struction in the pleasantest form. We almost envy the 
relish with which our children read this series. Now for a 
suggestion to parents: instead of buying your boy some 
trumpery toy, give him a year's subscription to this charm- 
ing monthly. It will cost you three dollars, indeed ; but 
its excellent moral hints and influence, its useful and en- 
tertaining knowledge, are worth all that, and much more. 
If you think you can not afford it for one child, take it for 
your children's home circle, and let one read it aloud to the 
others. You’ll never repent it. — Christian Inquirer. 

Of all our writers who have undertaken professedly 
the juvenile business in book-making, no one has equaled 
Jacob Abbott, in the opinion of many, if we regard both 
literary an5 moral excellence. With his editorial charge, 
and the inviting exterior furnished by the resources of the 
Harpers, the series must become generally popular. — 
Charleston Courier. 

Stories preferred by children to any others, because they 
contain no narratives of improbable events, but just what 
might have happened to any little boy or girl on any day 
in the year. If parents would place just such books as 
these in the hands of their children they would find less 
trouble in governing them. — Vicksburgh Whig. 

These Story Books, with their elegant engravings, can 
be no otherwise than very popular. Grandfathers as well 
as grandchildren will enjoy them. — Youths' Temperance 
Advocate. 

Marked not only by very sound views, but by a peculiar 
tact in adapting them to youthful comprehension.— Phil- 
adelphia Episcopal Recorder. 

These books have never been surpassed by any thing 
gotten up for the profit and pleasure of the little people. — 
Lutheran Observer. 

We have already commended this admirable enterprise 
to furnish periodical instruction and entertainment for 
the young. Jacob Abbott is confessedly the best and 
most successful writer for the young now living.— Evan- 
gelical Lutheran. 

The incidents are well selected, and put together with 
the author’s well known Dower and skill. The series is 
evidently one that wil be both acceptable and useful to 
the young. The paper, type, and wood-cuts are all that 
the most critical could desire. — Presbyterian Banner. 

Harper’s beautiful Story Books— a series got up in tho 
most attractive style. — Protcslant Churchman 







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JACOB ABBOTT. T^flLrfcffjfcH 

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Each Number of Harper’s Story 
Books will contain 160 pages, in small 
quarto form, very beautifully illus- 
trated, and printed on superfine cal- 
endered paper. 

The Series may be obtained of Book- 
sellers, Periodical Agents, and Post- 
masters, or from the Publishers, at 
Three Dollars a year, or Twenty- 
five Cents a Number. 

The two Periodicals, Harper’s New 
Monthly Magazine and Harper’s Sto- 
ry Books, will be supplied at Five 
Dollars a year, and will be published 
on the first day of each Month, 
oj The Postage upon Harper’s Story 
Books, which must be paid quarterly 
in advance, is Two Cents. 


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1 rate? 
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EACH NUMBER COMPLETE IN ITSELF. 




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.NKLIN SQUARE, N. Y. Jji 






















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